Wings of Prophecy
by SPNAngelGirl
Summary: Many years have passed since the Enochians were chased off the earth by the humans, now a dark threat arises and the fate of the world is placed in the hands of two human men and a fallen star.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello Everyone**

**First of all I want to start out by saying thank you for clicking! Well after a while of reading fanfiction, I am going to try my hand at it. This is an idea that sprung up on me and I just couldn't leave it alone. This IS an AU for anyone who was wondering, and it's also my first SPN fic (scratch that my first fic ever). I hope you guys like it because I spent a while working on it to see if I could get it just right. This here is a Prologue of sorts before the story ball starts rolling so here you guys go, ENJOY!**

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><p>It has been said that when this earth was still young, before the arrival of Humans, a different type of mystical beings roamed. The Enochians. Created by their Father, they were strong and beautiful creatures with abilities beyond imagination. They tended the earth with their powers, keeping her strong and healthy for a purpose they did not yet know. But they knew that it would be something spectacular.<p>

Then the humans arrived. Rising from the dust of the earth to rest upon her. They were helpless and vulnerable and the Enochians knew that this was what their Father had planned, what they had been working for. They welcomed the humans with delight and open arms, over joyed with the prospect of sharing their knowledge with these new beings. They helped them establish themselves, teaching them all they needed to know and showing them the wonder and beauty of the earth around them, helping them to appreciate all that was given freely to them.

The humans built kingdoms for themselves, using their new skills to build towering castles and quiet villages while the Enochians used their powers to make breathtaking statues and majestic monuments for the humans, to celebrate all they had accomplished. No one even thought to put up walls around the kingdoms, there was no need for there was no war. The Enochians did help the humans to fashion weapons and taught them to fight, but only for the soul purpose of protecting themselves from the other creatures that wished them harm, and for a time there was peace between the two different beings.

But then a human named Festien Antioch came to be. He was a corrupt man, full of selfish pride and a lust for power. He was jealous of the Enochians' abilities and had a hatred towards them because they were more powerful than him. He intended to bring down the beings, to capture them and make them do as he pleased, for then he would be known as the most powerful. He started his plan by sowing seeds of doubt and mistrust towards the Enochians in the minds of the humans around him. The feelings started to spread, reaching kingdom after kingdom and a wave of hatred worked its way into the hearts of the humans. They schemed to defeat the Enochians, to make them slaves meant only to serve them.

There was one time a year that was celebrated with great enthusiasm, a day full of festivals to celebrate the anniversary that humans came to be on earth. Humans and Enochians gathered together in every kingdom to share this joyous time with one another. Festien choose that time to move against them. After the festival had begun the humans attacked. Festien lead the largest group as they descended upon the surprised Enochians with their weapons, aiming to wound them severely or cut off their wings. The Enochians retreated, using their powers to hold off the humans. They found that it was impossible to defend themselves and protect the humans at the same time and they did not wish to harm them. So they fled. A day that was meant for happiness and peace had turned into a day filled with sorrow for the Enochians as they took to the sky, escaping to their kingdom Elysium*, leaving behind the earth and the humans they had grown to love.

After the Enochians left the earth changed. The humans established a hierarchy in the kingdoms, appointing certain men to rule as the first kings. But the lust for power had not left the human's heart and after their failure to obtain the Enochians they turned on each other. War broke out upon the beings of the earth, kingdom against kingdom, fighting for a higher place in the world. Towering, sturdy walls were built to surround the different kingdoms, soldiers were made and many lives were lost. After a time the kings decided to gather and find a solution. They decided to split the earth up into different lands, each one being ruled by a king. The kings with the most power were given the largest lands while the others were left to scramble for what remained. Though through the years kingdoms still fought one another over boundaries, a sense of order fell onto the humans.

The years passed and signs of the Enochians faded with them. Tall forests grew up around the monuments and the statues that had been left alone slowly crumpled. Even earth felt the absence of their powers. While the Enochians resided on the earth a small flower had blossomed everywhere. It was whiter than a fresh snowfall with soft blue accents around the middle and shaped like a falling star. It had been called Celestial and had been a sign of the Enochians love for earth. It no longer grew and the earth felt a bit darker in its absence.

As centuries came and went the earth changed even more. Kingdoms rose to power only to fall to their own lust, then replaced by a new kingdom bearing a new name. Boundaries moved as armies pressed forward and alliances were made and broken. After a time the fighting between lands slowed as a new threat presented itself. The humans thought of the other mystical creatures as a threat so they turned their attention to inventing weapons to help protect themselves and fight this impending danger. The humans referred to these creatures as beasts and monsters, chasing them down and killing them. They created enemies out of the creature and soon the humans really did have a need to fear them.

And through this all, the Enochians became known as simply a myth. Myth became legend and legend faded until even the memory of these majestic beings drifted away on the wind.

But not all forgot.

Tucked away in the safety of their homes, some humans remembered the stories of the loving creatures. They passed them on, telling their children all about the winged protectors up in the sky, watching over them and keeping them safe. This is how they kept their hope alive, hope that one day the Enochians would return and the earth would be at peace once again.

Unknown to these believers, buried in the deepest part of an old archive room beneath a palace, was a small scroll. On it was written the words of a prophecy as old as the first kings. Words of hope and encouragement but also of a grave darkness. It foretold a time when a great evil would arise and threaten to plunge the earth into a dark era, filled with death and sadness. But during this time a small light would descend to the earth. A light that along with two flaming stars, would fight to protect the humans and defend the earth. And so it was foretold.

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><p>It was a dark night, a night of the new moon where the only light came from the small specks dotting the sky. In the castle of King John there was drinking and dancing, a celebration of victory. The whole kingdom was joining in the festivities, whether it be in the castle or the streets the merry making was well underway and the wine flowing freely.<p>

Unseen by the people a star fell from the sky, a bluish light streaking behind it as it plummeted to the ground below. It landed on the soil in the land of Siohan, land of the Horse Riders, in a grove of trees. A small glow burst forth, encompassing the tall willows and painting the sky, pulsating as if it were a heartbeat. Then it vanished, leaving the night as it was, quiet except for the sounds coming from the kingdom in the distance, its people oblivious to the light that had fallen to earth

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><p><strong>Well there you have it. So...comments, questions, unicorns? What do you guys think about it, does it sound like it'll be interesting, or does it sound like complete bull? I'm kind of nervous about it and I would really love to know each and every thought you have. And don't spare me the gory details I can take it ;) Easter break is here so hopefully it will give me time to get chapter 1 up soon. Thank you for reading and I can't wait to hear what you think! Until next time<strong>

**SPNAngelGirl**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey Everyone!**

**First off HAPPY EASTER! Yeah yeah I know I'm late but whatever. Went on a 7 hr (both ways) trip up to Saskatoon for the holiday so that gave me plenty of time to write this chapter for you all. I would have posted this the other day but the site was being finiky so I wasn't able to. But now I can! I just want to thank uroboros85, OjosDeLaLuna9, and IzzyGirl45 for their wonderful reviews last chapter. They made my day, so happy to hear you guys are interested! Hope this one suffices and keeps your interest!**

***Oh and I noticed I forgot to put the explination for this star last chapter. Fun fact for you, Elysium is actually another word for Heaven. (wink wink)**

**Disclaimer: Hmm...last time I checked my birth certificate did not say Eric Kripke on it. **

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><p>The wind whistled across the plains, twisting and turning with the hills and brushing past the trees, sending them into a small dance, their branches swaying beneath the clear blue sky. White fluffy clouds drifted lazily on the breeze, continuing their journey across the lands. The peaceful scene was disturbed when a group of riders topped a hill, the pounding of hoofs dashing the quiet from the air. The wind rushed to meet them, wrapping it arms around the small group, fingers reaching out to stir hair and tug at clothes.<p>

Dean Winchester reached up to wipe a hand across his brow, turning his face into the wind in order to take full advantage of the cool breeze. He shifted in his saddle and tugged at the sleeves of the emerald green coat he wore, cursing it under his breath.

Normally Dean loved going out for rides, flying across the expanse of land before him always filled him with a sense of freedom. But today was different. It was mid-morning; the sun not very high in the sky and already it was showing signs of being a hot day. The already sweltering heat was doing absolutely nothing for the pounding headache he had, a good reminder of the party his father had thrown the night before.

Dean tried to take his mind off of the sweat drenching his body by looking at the scenery, but it seemed that no matter where he looked he was greeted by the glint of sun against armor. That was most likely due to the fact that he was literally almost surrounded my guards, they created a sort of ring around him leaving only a small space in the front to allow adequate movement for the horses.

The guards themselves would have been a spectacular sight to behold to anyone else who didn't see them day in and day out. They were all wearing full armor, breastplates and helmets polished to a shine, creating the illusion of being surrounded on all sides by a ring of mirrors. Each had a large sword strapped to their waist and a green shield bearing the golden horse of Siohan on their arm.

"Dean, look!"

Dean turned his head so he could see the other person that shared the small ring with him. His younger brother Sam, though you would never have guessed judging from his freakishly tall height, sat in the saddle of a strong tan horse. His shoulder length brown hair flopped behind him with the wind and his big hazel eyes were lite up in excitement as he pointed to something ahead of them.

"We're almost there!"

Dean's eyes followed the direction his brother indicated. A wide cluster of trees rose out of the sea of grass like an island in the distance, tall poplar and birch limbs reaching up to the sky.

Sam dug his heels into his horse, urging it forward at a faster pace. Dean sighed and shook his head, but lightly kicked his horse's side to coax her to match the other horse's stride.

Sam had barged into his room earlier this morning, ripping back curtains and shouting for Dean to get up, proclaiming that he had 'found it'.

A while back Sam had been rifling through ancient scrolls and books in the old archive room deep in the basement of the castle, when he came upon a particularly dusty scroll containing Sam's version of 'buried treasure'. A well detailed diagram of an odd looking statue, followed by a long description of the importance, history and creatures of the statue. Apparently, the makers were the legendary beings the Enochians. Their late mother had told the Enochians when they were young boys, and Sam had latched on to those tales. He was obsessed with everything that had anything to do with these creatures, so finding a scroll with directions to a statue from them that could possible still be standing made him excited beyond belief. Last night while everyone else was celebrating he was hunched over that scroll trying to figure out the statue's exact location.

Having been successful in doing this he had dragged Dean out of his bed and forced him onto a horse and to follow him to the spot, even while dean was still feeling the effects of the alcohol he had consumed the night before.

They reigned the horses in just outside the first ring of trees, Sam quickly dismounting and Dean not far behind. He waved off the guards on the horses, letting them know that they were planning on continuing alone. Sometimes being the Crown Prince of a nation had its advantages and other times, like when it came to security, it was just a large pain in the ass.

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><p>Sam retrieved the scroll from a satchel behind his saddle and unrolled it as he started into the trees. Dean checked his sword that was belted to his waist and the small daggers tucked into the tops of his boots before following Sam into the woods.<p>

They ended up walking farther than either of them originally thought they would, the forest proving to be bigger on the inside then it first appeared. As they walked Dean watched the surrounding trees warily, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword so he would be ready in case danger arose. Sam strode ahead with the unrolled scroll in his hands, occasionally glancing up from it to look around and mumble something incoherent to himself.

Suddenly Sam stopped cause Dean to almost run into him. He heard Sam let out a gasp, eyes locked straight ahead on something Dean couldn't see. Then he broke out into a grin, the corners of his eyes crinkling up as pure delight washed over his features.

"There it is Dean! We found it," he exclaimed as he rushed forward into the trees.

Dean shouted after him to wait up and ran forward. He found Sam not that far ahead, standing in a small clearing. Dean quickly glanced around for what his brother could be looking at, but the only other thing in there besides them and the trees was a giant strange looking rock covered with foliage.

"Isn't amazing Dean? I knew it would be standing, I just knew it." Sam turned to look at him, a big goofy smile plastered onto his face.

Dean raised his eyebrows and looked around again, but he still couldn't find anything that looked like a statue. "Uh Sam, where is it exactly?"

Sam rolled his eyes and chuckled, reaching up to place his hand on the large rock in front of him. Dean walked forward until he was standing right beside Sam and squinted up at the green covered rock. Then he saw it, the strange rock was indeed the statue.

As Dean looked more closely he could tell right away that the statue was a women. At the very top, almost hidden under a blanket of green and brown moss and leaves was the beginning of a waterfall of wavy hair. It fell over her shoulders and spilled down her back, the curls framing a delicate looking face, minus all the cracks. She was wearing a flowing robe that pooled on the ground, hiding her feet and billowed behind her as if stirred by an invisible wind. Her hands were raised waist high, arms outstretched and palms facing up. Her head was raised and she was looking in the direction the boys had come, the direction of their kingdom. Her lips were parted as if she was speaking and she was, in so many words, beautiful.

"Well I'll give them this," Dean said, turning back to look at Sam. "They sure know the meaning of a beautiful body." Dean looked up and eyed the statue's full chest for extra emphasis.

Sam shot him one of his famous bitch faces, number 10, the "is that seriously all you think about" face before kneeling down and brushing at something on the ground in front of the statue.

Dean knelt down beside him and watched as his younger brother carefully pulled away clumps of moss and grass from the object on the ground. It was another slab of stoned, white and shinning in the sunlight filtering through the trees. Intricate words were carved into the stone, the lettering delicate and the whole thing filled with melted gold so the words stood out. It was written in a different language and Dean couldn't make heads or tails out of it, and judging by the way that Sam was studying it with a frown, he was having just as hard a time.

Sam looked up and locked eyes with him, that all telling glint in his eyes. "It's definitely Enochian! I can't make out a whole lot but I recognized a few words from some old books," Sam rambled off, turning back to the stone and Dean couldn't help but smile as he felt the excitement roll off of him.

That's when Dean heard the snap of a twig breaking behind him, and it was all the warning he got. Before he could turn around he felt something slam into his back and propel him forward to collide into the statue. His head hit the stone and he fell to the ground, black spots dancing into his vision.

"Dean!"

Sam's call pulled Dean out of the black that surrounded him and the world cleared somewhat as Dean pushed himself onto his knees and looked around. He saw Sam backed up against a tree, a small dagger in his hand and a panicked look on his face as a creature approached him.

It was tall, taller than Dean would have been standing, and it was covered in scales as black as night. Five sharp claws sat at the ends of each of its four feet and its long tail was topped with a mass of pointy deadly looking spikes. It was advancing on Sam slowly, eyeing his younger brother up and down with a vicious stare.

Dean didn't stop to think before launching himself at the creature. He landed on its back and wrapped his arms around its neck, wrenching it backwards away from Sam.

"Go get the guards," Dean shouted, Sam hesitating only a second before turning and taking off across the clearing. The creature twisted and bucked and Dean grunted as he was tossed to the ground. He scrambled to his feet, pulling out his sword and turning in time to see the creature starting after Sam's retreating back.

"Hey shit head," Dean called after it, reaching down to his right boot. The creature turned to look at him and Dean threw one of his daggers at it. The dagger struck the think in the shoulder, the blade sinking between the scales. The creature let out a scream of pain and anger and launched towards Dean, tail whipping back and forth ruthlessly. Dean turned on his heel and dashed into the trees, hoping to get away from the creature and buy Sam some time to get the guards.

He darted around trees and over fallen logs, his feet carrying him fast over the ground but the crashes coming from behind told him the creature was not far away. His mad dash came to an abrupt halt when he came face to face with a lake of black water in another clearing. He'd heard of this stuff, it looked like dark colored water but it was thick, like syrup and if you fell in, it was impossible to get back out by yourself. It was one of the last places he wanted to end up.

Dean started to turn in another direction when something hard and sharp slammed into the right side of his back. He cried out a she felt sharp spikes dig into his flesh and he was thrown to the ground, his sword bouncing out of his hand and skidding off. Dean heard the ripping sound of fabric as the creature tried to pull its tail back, his coat tearing off with it. He looked up to see the creature shaking its tail around in a vain effort to dislodge the tangled green fabric from its spikes.

Dean's back ached and he could feel the warmth of blood sliding down his back at that moment he caught sight of his sword a few feet from the left side of the creature. It was he's main choice of defense and even though he hadn't had a chance to use it yet, without it he knew he was royally screwed. Now was the perfect time while the creature was preoccupied and Dean burst from his position on the ground and launched himself at the sword, arms outstretched in front of him to grab it.

A clawed foot caught him in the stomach, stopping his forward momentum and propelling him backwards. Dean braced himself to hit the hard ground but was surprised when he felt his body hit water. Then the water became heavy and panic struck as he was pulled down.

Dean was fully submerged in the black water in seconds. The thick liquid wrapping around him and dragging him down farther from the surface. He flailed his arms and kicked his legs in vain to try and reach the air he left behind. But the water caught his limbs and held fast. He was immobile, suspended in this goo and unable to breathe much less call for help. It seeped in around him trying to fill every crack and opening it could. His ears, his nose, his mouth, anywhere it could get into, squeezing the very air out of him. He was losing consciousness fast from lack of oxygen, and Dean knew he wasn't going to make it.

But then Dean felt a pressure on his left shoulder. It was more prominent then the squeezes of the black water, feeling much like a hand gripping his skin. Before this could register in his brain there was a searing pain on his skin and then Dean could feel himself being dragged upwards. His head broke the surface and Dean gasped, sucking in air and black water together. This sent him into a coughing fit as the rest of his body was tugged out and onto the shore. He continued to gasp and cough as he lay face down in the grass, his body aching to pull in as much air as possible and get rid of the black water at the same time.

He opened his eyes, trying to blink away his bleary vision, half expecting to see the creature standing over him, vicious claws gleaming in the air. But that's not the sight that greeted him.

The creature was still there, but it stood at the other side of the clearing. Its back was arched, head down and tail lashing back and forth in anger. Its feet curled, claws digging into the ground as it stared straight ahead, eyes locked on the figure in front of it.

Dean couldn't make out the person that well, but he could see well enough to know for certain that it wasn't Sam or one of the guards. Whoever it was, was standing straight, shoulders et, feet planted firmly and what looked like a thin silver sword held securely in their hand.

The creature launched itself at the person, claws extended trying to catch them in the side. The figure easily side stepped the attack, twirling around to slash the animal up the side with their sword. The creature jerked and slashed forward with its claws, tail coming up to hit the person from behind. But they dodged the tail and blocked the claws, stepping around and slashing at the creature again. They continued this dance, the creature lashing out and the figure blocking, dodging and attacking, moving with undeniable grace.

Dean tried to push himself to his feet and grab his sword to try and help the person, but the aching in his back combined with the now searing pain of his left shoulder stopped him at his knees with a cry. The figure had heard him and stopped, glancing back to check on Dean. The creature took its fleeting chance and lashed out with its tail. Dean tried to shout a warning but it was to0 late and the middle of the tail collided with the figure, sending it flying through the air and landing on the ground hard.

The creature regarded the fallen one for a minute, then turned and its gaze fell on Dean. It was no doubt still angry for the knife still sticking out of its shoulder, and now that Dean was wounded it zeroed in on him. Dean once again tried to reach his weapon, but the pain was to great and he could only watch as the creature slowly advanced on him.

Suddenly the figure was standing in front of him facing the creature, legs spread and fists clenched as they locked eyes. Dean watched in amazement and disbelief and inky black wings seemed to appear out of nowhere and unfold from the person's back. They were huge, spreading out and up in a threatening toward the creature. They stood staring at each other, both challenging the other to make the first move, when the thing reared its head and charged at the figure. The person raised their hand, open palm pointing straight at the oncoming threat and suddenly there was a flash of light so bright it forced Dean to close his eyes and shield them with his hands.

When Dean looked again all he could see was the smoldering remains of the creature sprawled on the ground. It was hardly recognizable and the stench of burning flesh wafted to Dean, making him gag slightly.

A quiet shuffle brought his attention back in front of him just as the figure with the wings turned to face him. Dean was meet with two piercing blue orbs staring back at him, catching his gaze and holding it there.

"What in the…"

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><p><strong>Well there you guys go. Hope it satisfied! I was really nervous about that last half of the fight scene, and I tried my hardest to make it as clear and unconfusing as possible. If any of you felt it was still very abstract and made absaloutly no sense whatsoever then please let me know and I will go back and fix it up. Until then what do you guys think? I love reviews and hearing about what others liked, disliked, what they perdict will happen and just all around what they think so let me have them! Until next time<strong>

**SPNAngelGirl **


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey Everyone!**

**Wow, I mean wow. I did not expect that much feedback from the last chapter. You guys literally blew my mind! No I'm serious, I had to scrape brain matter off the walls and put it back in my skull I was so excited. I was very happy with all the feedback, you guys are AMAZING! So here's another chapter just for you **

**Disclaimer: It's my birthday tomorrow (I know right) and if I get the rights to Supernatural for a present, not only would it be the BEST GIFT EVER, but I'll be sure to let you guys know. Until then, Eric Kripke is still the man.**

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><p><em>A quiet shuffle brought his attention back in front of him just as the figure with the wings turned to face him. Dean was meet with two piercing blue orbs staring back at him, catching his gaze and holding it there. <em>

"_What in the…"_

The air around Dean was tense, sucking up all the sounds of the world around him and replacing it with complete silence. Dean pushed himself to his feet, all his thoughts tumbled around in his head, tripping over each other in an effort to form coherent thoughts, but each time they failed. He was totally captivated with studying the person in front of him.

The figure was standing closer now, revealing to Dean that he was indeed a man, a tad shorter then he was. His head was topped with a mass of black hair that was sticking out in different directions and a few leaves and twigs could be spotted poking out from beneath the mop. His face was strong, soft cheekbones, a sturdy jaw with a speckle of stubble on it and full lush lips. A pale delicate throat connected his head to strong shoulders. The man was wearing a white tunic that stopped at his knees and was tightened at his waist by a deep blue sash, the material stirring in the breeze. A piece of the material on his right shoulder had been torn apart and now hung loosely down his side, exposing the pale skin to the world. He was covered in dirt, no doubt caused by the scuffle and his bare feet shifted on the soft earth beneath him. His ink black wings were tucked back behind him, the top half peaking over his shoulders and both twitching slightly.

But the most striking feature about the man was his eyes. They were large round spheres placed perfectly in that face, complimenting every other feature of him. The color was that of a bright blue summer sky, one of the most beautiful colors Dean had ever seen, making him feel slightly breathless the more he looked at them. What was more was that the longer Dean stared, the more he was able to pick out that un earthly glow that seemed to light them up from deep within, adding a sparkle to them that Dean had never seen before.

A drop of crimson bloomed on the material of the man's tunic and Dean's eyes were instantly drawn to the source. A long gash was situated on his right arm, the dark red standing out against his skin as the blood trickled to his fingers and dripped off the edge.

The man's eyes followed Dean's gaze until he too saw the gash, the edges of his lips twitching up slightly, and Dean be damned if he didn't look slightly amused. But his eyes shot right back to the arm, his mouth opening in shock at what he saw. The wound was knitting itself up, skin stretching over to connect to the other side and quickly closing the gash, leaving nothing but smooth skin and smeared blood behind. Not even a scar!

_How in the…_ Dean thought, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to force the words out. But all he could do was stare at the newly reformed arm in shock.

At that moment, agonising pain tore his thoughts away from the miracle before him and instead to the deep claw gashes on his back. He fell to the ground with a gasp, arms reaching out to stop himself at his knees. It seemed so much more intense, the pain growing and pulsating along his back until Dean was ready to pass out.

That's when a cool, soft hand was gently placed on his back just above the gash. It was soothing to his burning skin and his body ached for more. Then a tingling feeling started in that area, slowly spreading along his back and dancing across his shoulders. Everywhere that sensation touched the pain faded until he felt nothing. Then the tingling too faded and Dean hesitantly reached a hand up to his shoulder and felt the exposed skin there. Completely smooth, no ridges, bumps and definitely no gaping holes

Dean lifted his head and locked eyes with the strange man who was standing above him, his face laced with concern.

"Who are you," Dean heard himself ask, a hint of the wonder he was feeling finding a way into his voice.

The man opened his mouth to reply but at that moment, a dark net dropped out of the sky and landed right over him. He let out a yelp of surprise and his arms shot up to try and dislodge it but to no avail as the ends were weighted with hunks of metal. His wings flared out, straining against the edges of the net in an effort to keep his balance as he stumbled backwards and fell to the ground.

In a flurry of green and shiny metal, a crowd of guards stormed out of the surrounding trees. Dean tried to push himself to his feet and call them off, but a small group rushed over to him and kept him from rising all the while assuring him that they had everything under control.

The rest of the men ran over to the man trapped in the net who was still crying out and struggling and Dean soon lost sight of him amongst the mass of bodies blocking his view. The guards shouted orders to each other and the man's cries got louder until Dean heard a loud thump and the man fell silent.

Dean surged to his feet, planning to rush forward and start knocking people around until they damn well started listening to him. But that's when the effects of all the blood loss caught up to him and Dean stumbled, tumbling straight from the ground. Just before face could meet dirt he was caught by a pair of arms that wrapped around his middle and slowly lowered him down. His back touched the grass and darkness took him.

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><p>When Dean came around the first thing he saw was the face of his brother who was looking down at him with a mix of relief and concern. His mouth was moving as he tried to talk to Dean, but at the moment he couldn't hear anything as black spots danced across his vision and he had to focus all his energy into staying conscious. The spots started to clear and Dean winced when Sam's booming voice reached his ears.<p>

"God Sam, keep it down would ya! Your making my ears bleed." Dean reached up and placed a hand against his head, blinking slowly.

"Well sorry. Maybe if you had bothered to listen to me instead of dropping off I wouldn't have had to raise my voice." Sam's lips twitched up into a smile, sarcasm practically dripping off his words.

"Hey, some of us need our beauty sleep. Not everyone was born with your feminine physic Sammy," Dean smirked as he attempted to push himself into a sitting position.

Sam shot him a glare as he reached to assist him. "Don't call me that."

"Would you rather prefer bitch?"

"Jerk!"

Dean chuckled and glanced around. They were still in the clearing by the black water, a small number of guards stationed by the outer trees. The smoldering remains of the strange creature that had attacked him and Sam were still laying scattered across the grass and he could see a glimpse of his shredded green coat tangled in the bush. But something wasn't right. Dean couldn't put his finger on exactly what, but he just had a feeling that there was something missing from the scene in front of him.

"Dean, what happened here?" Sam's voice pierced his thoughts. "From the information I could gather, the guards found you kneeling on the ground with some strange creature standing over you. You look pretty beat up and yet there's not a scratch on you."

"What did you say," Dean asked, his head shooting up and locking eyes with his brother.

"I said you look pretty beat up and yet ther-"

"No no no, before that!"

"The guards said they found you kneeling on the ground with some strange creature standing over you," Sam said while giving him a weird look.

An image of bright blue eyes and ink black wings flashed into Dean's mind and the last piece clicked. The strange man was the thing that was missing. The last time Dean saw him he had a giant net around him and the guards were- "Sam, what did they do with it?"

Sam looked at him with a mix of surprise and slight concern. "They captured it and took it back to the palace." The words were hardly out of Sam's mouth before Dean was on his feet and running into the trees in the direction of the horses. He passed by the lake of black water and the ancient statue with the strange carved writing, not slowing down until he reached the horses.

"Dean, what's going on," Sam asked as he came running up behind him.

"I'll explain later Sammy," Dean answered as he swung up into his saddle and kicked his horse into a run, steering it in the direction of their kingdom. He wasn't worried if Sam followed he just knew that he needed to get there as soon as possible. The guards hadn't killed the man, which meant that if he was fast enough there might still be a chance to save him from the king.

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><p><em>He was walking down a dark hallway, the faint light of a single torch casting flickering shadows up the walls. The sound of footsteps bounced off the polished stone, making them seem that much louder in the impending quiet of the late night. And he couldn't help but wonder why he was here. <em>

_His fingers played with the fabric of the long cloak he wore, the hood of which was limiting his immediate vision, but he could still see enough to know that he was not alone. Cloaked figures strode around him and whispered quietly to each other, their hoods casting shadows onto their faces. He was confused but chose to say nothing and simply allowed them to lead him farther down the hall. _

_They stopped and the torch was distinguished, casting him into complete darkness. Then a faint light filled the space as a door was opened and he was ushered through. _

_They emerged outdoors onto what appeared to be a balcony with no railing. He approached the edge and looked down into utter darkness, blacker then the night sky overhead. He slowly inched away from the edge, a feeling in his stomach warning him to stay away. The other figures had closed the door and were whispering to each other again and he happened to catch the tail end of the conversation. _

"_-to make sure they don't find out yet."_

"_I agree but are you sure you covered our tracks properly?"_

"_You let me worry about that and you concentrate on standing guard and making sure no one has the chance to sneak up on us." And with that, one of the cloaked figures broke apart from the rest and strode towards him. _

_Two strong hands were placed on his shoulders, and though he couldn't see it, he could just sense the warm smile the figure sent down at him. It was, in a way, reassuring and he could feel himself relax slightly under it. Then something thin and cool was placed into his right palm. He brought his hand up and studied the long slender sword he held, the blade glowing faintly in the soft light of the stars. _

"_My gift of protection to you," the figure told him as they placed their hand of his, "May it serve you well."_

_He felt that he should say something to them, but at that moment another figure came up behind the first and leaned up to speak to it. _

"_They have found us? Their coming now," they said, their voice laced with a sense of urgency and slight panic. A loud sound could be heard coming from the opposite side of the door they had entered from and the figures both flinched slightly. _

_The first figure nodded and the second hurried back to the door. "It is time," they said as they turned back to face him. "Be careful." And with that the figure moved closer, placed its hands on his chest and pushed. _

_He stumbled backwards trying to regain his footing when he felt his feet hit the edge of the balcony. He tottered there, suspended for a split second. Then, just as the door at the other end was flung open and light spilled across the balcony, he lost his balance and tumbled into the darkness below. _

He woke with a start, his body jerking and causing him to hit his head painfully against the stone wall behind him. He slowly opened his eyes, blinking a few times before reaching a hand up to his aching head. That's when he heard a faint clanking sound and he stopped, eyes snapping wide open and searching the area for danger. There was none, the sound having come from the shackles on his wrist attached to chains that bound him to the wall. He brought his hand up and tugged at the chain, but realized it wasn't going to do any good when he saw the symbols that were etched into the metal.

He let his head fall back against the cold stone, a sigh escaping his lips as his eyes studied the area around him. He was in a cell of some kind, small and square with three walls made of stone and the front on made solely of dark iron bars. From this short distance he could make out the symbols that were also present on them so he quickly ruled them out as a way of escape. Just beyond the bars he could see a hallway lined with more cells that ended in a wooden door at the far end.

Just then the door opened, letting light spill in from the room beyond. He squinted against the brightness, bringing one of his arms up to his face in order to better shield his eyes. Footsteps sounded down the hall and stopped right in front of his cell.

He looked up at a tall dark man standing on the other side of the bars. He was dressed in tan breeches and a green coat that peeked out from underneath a breast plate that shone brightly from the light of the torch he carried. A few other men stood behind him wearing matching uniforms. The man leered at him, the twisted smile not reaching his cold eyes.

"Well good morning sleeping princess, glad to see you have finally woken up," the man sneered, pulling a pair of keys off his belt. "Just in time to, cause you've got a date with the king."

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><p><strong>Ta-Da! Chapter 3! It's not that long, lots of dialogue and a cliff hanger, I know I suck but I just love these things. Oh I would just like to clear something up. I do not have a set update time (as some of you might have figured out by now). I just lead a very busy life so I can never guarantee when I will be able to update. Sorry to all you who like weekly updates, I'm just not able to do it. <strong>

**Oh and by the way, last week I was introduced to this song and I have totally fallen in love with it, bought it on iTunes and I'm pretty sure I listen to it about 10 times a day! It's called 'Angel With A Shotgun' by The Cab and the minuet I heard it I thought of Castiel, it just matches him so perfectly. Anyway I encourage you guys to go check it out, cause it's awesome!**

**So thoughts, questions? You know the drill, reviews make me happy and happy moods help me write! Until next time**

**SPNAngelGirl**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello Everyone!**

**I know, I've been away for a while, and you're probably wasting away in my absence, pining for my beloved presence. It's difficult to survive without me. Right?**

**Right guys?**

***crickets***

**Aaaaanyway, first of all sorry. This chapter really shouldn't have taken so long, but I, being the 'incredibly intelligent' person that I am got distracted working on another story filled with Destiel awesomeness, which the idea for just kind of popped up and stole my plot tribble's attention so…yeah. Plus I got knocked down for a week by a horrible sickness to which led me to missing school and then I had tons of homework to catch up on, and you know the Season 7 finale didn't really help either (you all know what I'm talking about)**

**Also this was just one of those chapter that was just so damn hard to write. I got about half way through it and then….nothing. My mind just kind of self-destructed on me and I couldn't think of anything for days! You guys understand right? I almost died, if I didn't have your wonderful reviews to read I don't think I would have made it through so thanks to you all, this one's for you! Well now that we have this extremely long AN out of the way (seriously what the hell me) let's get this chapter started!**

**Disclaimer: Okay okay, you caught me. I'm Eric Kripke! And I also spend my time writing fan fiction about my own show instead of going on and fixing the things the fans tell me to**

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><p>Dean rode his horse hard through the gates of the city, barreling down the hard packed dirt road of the street. People were forced to jump out of his way or risk being trampled, some turning to shake fists and shout after him, only to have to jump out of the way of Sam who was hot on his heels. But Dean barely noticed any of this as his eyes were locked on the castle in the distance.<p>

The castle wasn't grand by most standards, especially compared to the castle in the capital of the kingdom of Teliandor, whose people were known far and wide for their grand and elegant architecture. The people of Siohan were known for their practicality and it showed itself in their buildings. The castle was tall and solid, built from sturdy stone and strong wood. The walls surrounding it were high and thick, guard towers rising on alternating spots along the top.

Dean shouted for the guards that were manning the wood and metal gates to open them. Luckily the men recognized him and quickly swung the door open, getting them just wide enough by the time Dean got there so there was enough room for him to speed through unhindered. He raced into the large courtyard on the other side, hurriedly dismounting his horse before the stable hands even had a chance to see he had arrived, hurrying across the cobblestone towards a single wooden door at the far side.

Once through the doorway Dean found the correct hallway and took off down it, his footsteps echoing down the empty corridor. Tall tapestries depicting scenes of hunts or battles graced the stone walls, and tall stands holding candles helped keep the area lite enough to see. Dean had walked these halls many times before and had often stopped to admire the sights, but today he had no time so he rushed past without seeing them. All he could think about was his objective, a single tapestry along the wall that reached from the ceiling to the floor, which hide behind it a small wooden door. He had used this door on several occasions and only for emergencies, but this counted as one in his mind, the one that was currently panicking.

Dean hurriedly pulled back the material, the bird fighting a snake depiction going unnoticed, and yanked open the door, slipping into the darkness beyond. It was a short walk down the secret passage before he found himself in front of a final wooden door, and here he stopped. He wasn't sure what exactly he would be walking into once he opened the door, but he mentally crossed his fingers that he wasn't too late.

At that moment he felt something collide into his back, causing him to stumble forward a few steps and his arms to windmill in order to keep balance. Dean turned and sent a heated glare at his giant of a little brother behind him and Sam at least had the decency to look at his feet in embarrassment. Dean brought a finger to his lips and jerked his head at the door, waiting until Sam nodded before turning back to the wooden barrier.

He took a deep breath, grasped the handle and pulled it open.

Dean and Sam entered a large room from the back, stopping just inside to close the door quietly. The room, if it could technically be called that, was huge, with vaulted ceilings and large windows that let in a vast amount of light. On either side of the wide floors sat a line of tall backed chairs where nobles of the kingdom would normally be sitting when they were summoned to a gathering, but for now sat empty. At the front of the room stood a pair of tall, dark and heavily gilded doors that for the moment were standing closed, blocking off any view of the room from the hallway beyond. A dark green carpet boarded by gold thread started at the doors and ran the length of the floor to an area just in front of them, were a dais rose off the ground, guards positioned on either side on the bottom step. On the top in the very center rose a tall throne, the rearing horse of Siohan rising off the top.

Dean slowly made his way forward, Sam trailing behind, and as they advanced, the front of the throne came into view. Seated proudly on the throne was their father, King John, back straight and hands placed on the arm rests of the throne. A tall gold crown rested in his dark brown hair, rising high off his head as if to imitate the towers of the castle. His clothes were a fine forest green and stitched with pearls and emeralds along the sleeves and collar and a fur trimmed cloak, fastened to his shoulders with a golden chain, spreading out around him. The very look of him emitted an aurora of power and greatness.

John's eyes fell on the two as they stopped in front of the dais, his face brightening at the sight of them. Dean and Sam dropped to one knee with their heads bowed in order to show the proper respect to their father.

"Rise my sons, you are welcome." He said, waiting for them to do so before motioning them to join him by the throne. "To what do I owe this sporadic appearance?"

Dean took his place standing on his father's right and cleared his throat; he needed to be careful with this. "Actually father, there is a matter that I wish to speak to you about."

John smiled again and opened his mouth to answer when there was a loud knock on the far doors, the sound echoing off the walls in the large room. The smile disappeared, his brows drawing down and gaze turning to the door. Dean knew this as the time he was expected to stand beside the throne like the prince he was and wait for his father to be finished with whatever business was going to come through that door. So he stood a little straighter, seeing Sam do the same from the opposite side, and watched as his father motioned to the guards stationed at the doors to allow whoever was there to enter.

The doors slowly opened to admit a small group of guards surrounding a prisoner who was being dragged forward by the arms. They approached the front and stopped in front of the dais where the front half of the guards parted, giving the royal family a good view of the prisoner. Dean took one look and gasped in horror.

It was the man from earlier, the one who had saved his life from the black water and the strange beast. The man he had raced here to talk to his father about releasing. He was still wearing the white tunic but now he had shackles on his wrist and ankles, all attached by a chain that wound up and was attached to another shackle around his neck. Dean cringed and small sense of anger wield up inside him when his eyes fell on the large cut slanted across his forehead, blood still trickling from it and a dark bruise forming around the edges. The anger quickly grew when he caught sight of the man's large black wings. They were pulled back behind him and strapped together with a contraption of chains and metal bars, to say it looked uncomfortable was an understatement, it looked down right painful.

At that moment the man looked up and Dean was once again frozen in place when he saw the man's eyes. The blue in them just as inhumanly bright as before, so beautiful and captivating that he felt he could get lost in them if he gazed long enough. Those eyes fell on him and Dean saw the spark of recognition lite up in them, but it quickly faded when he saw where Dean was standing, beside the throne could only mean one thing. Then the man's gaze was pulled away from him as he was roughly forced to his knees on the floor by the guards behind him.

Dean heard a sharp intake of breath to his left and he looked over to see Sam staring at the man, his eyes wide with astonishment. But it was more than that, for Dean could see the telltale twinkle in his younger brother's eyes that was only there when he was reading some old legend or story he thought was long ago lost. A look filled with awe and a hint of wonder. His eyebrows had climbed to his hair line and his mouth gaped so wide Dean was afraid it had become unhinged.

John was also staring at the shackled man before him, but whereas Sam's gaze was full of childlike excitement, his was saturated with a deep unpleasantness. His eyes were slits in his face as he scowled down, small embers of anger burning in them. He straightened and prepared to address the group, but before he could utter a word Sam, who had also seen the look on his father's face, jumped forward.

"Father," he whispered hurriedly. "This is an amazing moment for our kingdom. Do you know what is in front of us? It's a-"

"I don't care what it is, you are not to interrupt me while I am taking care of a prisoner," John interrupted harshly, his eyes never moving from the bowed head before him as he addressed his son. But Sam would not be deterred and stepped forward more, even daring to put a hand on his father's arm.

"But father-"

"Enough!" John's arm shot up and his hand closed into a fist, successfully shutting Sam up. "I will not sit here and allow my son to question me in my duties, especially not in front of an audience. You will stand there quietly and act like a proper prince of Siohan or you will be escorted out and I will deal with you later." He turned his icy glare on Sam and he instantly backed down, retreating back to his proper place by the throne. With that done, the king turned once again to the man in front of him.

"Who is it you have brought before me," he asked Gordon, the Captain of the Guards. He was a taller man, with dark skin, a hard face and a cocky self-assurance that went with it all. He was never one for mercy, never showed it to enemies or other guard that Dean had seen and that was only one reason why he never liked the man.

"We captured this _creature_ in a wood a few miles east of here as he tried to attack the crown prince," Gordon spat out as he walked forward and leered down at the man. "We were able to take it down before it could do any major harm and brought it here before your majesty."

"I did not attack the prince." Dean started, his eyes widening as they flew from Gordon to the man kneeling in front of the dais. His head was raised and he was looking the king straight in the eye and, had that voice really come from him? Dean would never have imagined that a voice like that could come from a small man like him. It was deep and gravely, but not in an unpleasant way, almost like the way rocks sound when they're being rolled against each other by flowing water in a river bed. It was kind of captivating. "I was merely attempting to pro-" he was cut off when Gordon backhanded him across the face.

"You will not speak to the king unless addressed by him you scum!"

John looked equally as angry as his face contorted into disgust that flowed into his voice. "By your lack of respect it is obvious that you are not meant to be here, there for you are trespassing. In this kingdom that has severe consequences. You were also caught attacking the heir to the throne, an act punishable by death. You shall pay for your crimes with your life."

Dean felt panic rise up in his chest as the words left his father's mouth, and before he knew it he was stepping forward and addressing the king. "Father, if I may make a suggestion? I propose a different consequence for the prisoner. As from how he dresses and the way he carries himself, the self-assurance that he has he must have been a very important person form wherever he came from. I believe it would be more humiliating, and there for worse for him, if you were to enslave him, force him to move about the halls of this castle stripped of whatever titles he may have possessed before, in servitude under the very king he tried to disgrace." Dean crossed his fingers behind his back and waited for an answer.

John seemed to mull it over for a time before looking up at Dean. "You make a very good judgment my son." Then he looked back down at the man. "Very well. From this moment on, whatever status you had held before this is gone, taken from you by my authority as King of Siohan. And it is under this authority that I sentence you to a life of servitude in this castle, a place among the lowest servants until the day you die."

The man continued to stare up at the king, not even flinching as the sentence was spoken. "I am afraid I cannot comply with your words my liege," he said boldly and Dean was taken aback by how determined he looked. "I have a purpose to fulfill and it is not serving as your servant in this castle."

"In this palace, in this kingdom my word is LAW," John shouted, jumping up and glaring down at the chained man, his face darkening. "And you will learn to obey it." He shot a pointed look at Gordon, then flicked his wrist and turned towards the throne as the guards roughly hauled the man to his feet and dragged him out of the room, Gordon trailing behind, a vicious sneer growing on his face. As soon as the doors closed behind them, Sam hurried over.

"Father, please you're making a mistake," he pleaded gesturing lightly in an attempt to get his father to listen. "That man had done nothing wrong. You must understand that not all supernatural beings are evil. Just because mother was killed by one doesn't mean that," he trailed off and Dean took in a sharp breath as they both caught the look on their father's face. It was dark and burning with murderous rage and Dean took a step back away from it.

"You will be silent," he ordered, his voice strained but not loud. "I shall hear no more. Now leave my sight, both of you." The underlining threat was clear and Dean and Sam rushed off, almost forgetting to bow respectively before hurrying to the door they had entered in. Soon they were back out in the hallway, Dean leaning against the tapestry that covered the hidden door and still breathing hard from the encounter.

"Shit," he mumbled to himself as he pushed off and made his way down the hall before Sam could have a chance to talk to him. He had some things that he needed to take care of.

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><p>Dean walked the length of his large anteroom until he reached one of the walls, then turned on his heel and headed back until he reached the closed door to his bedroom, and then repeated the process again. He had been pacing for quite a while and frankly he was surprised he hadn't worn a rut into the rich rugs scattered across the floor. But he couldn't really help it, he was anxious, and when he was anxious he paced. Well that or tried to dampen it in a tall mug of strong ale, but his still ever present hangover deterred him from that route.<p>

After leaving Sam in the hall he had hurried as fast as he could towards the castle's large kitchens. Being the prince he knew the way by heart as the cooks were quite willing to hand over food to him once he flashed his winning smile. Not to mention the fact that most, if not all of the women that worked there were young, beautiful and more importantly had quite an impressive bust to them. But as he had neared the kitchens it wasn't food, nor any willing kitchen girl he was after, but one woman in particular was the target of his hurried search.

He had found her just outside the kitchen, strong hands on her hips as she berated a young servant girl for some mishap, judging by the way the girl had been fighting to hold in the tears. Missouri Moseley was the Mistress of Servitude in the castle, meaning she was the one who looked after all the servants and directed them in their jobs, making sure the castle ran smoothly. She was a sturdy woman with a dark stern face, strong shoulders and a 'no nonsense' disposition. But she also had a gentle smile and a very motherly attitude, especially towards the two princes, often acting as their surrogate mother for most of their lives. This meant the Dean smile never worked on her, but he would find some way to persuade her on his side.

Dean had gone to find her in order to straighten some things out with the mysterious man. At first he hadn't known why he had suggested the eternal servitude to his father in regards to him, at first he thought it was because he didn't want to see a man who had saved his life die. But now he felt more like it was because he wanted to talk to him, ask why he did what he did. But in order to do that he needed to find some way to be around him. Enter Missouri.

He had simply walked up to her with his 'I'm the prince so you had better obey what I say' face on and had informed her that a new servant would be joining her staff and he wished him to be his personal attender. Dean knew for sure that if he had stiffly ordered her to obey the chances he had of her actually doing what he wanted would have dropped dramatically, that's just the type of woman she was. Luckily she hadn't received any information about a new servant yet so there wasn't much question regarding that. All things considered Missouri had been quite accepting and had let him know that she would do what she could to make sure his request was fulfilled.

This brought him to his room to pace like a guard who had consumed to much wine as he waited for the man to show up. Dean's fingers twitched and his eyes involuntary fell on the tall pitcher of cooled spiced wine in the corner of the room, the condensation running down the sides in beads of water. He could almost taste it and he suddenly became more aware of just how hot it still was today. Before he knew it he was standing beside the tray and pouring the amber liquid into a tall glass. With a shaky hand he brought the glass to his lips.

A small knock on the door pulled Dean out of his trance and he started, almost dropping the cup on the floor. He cursed and hurriedly placed the cup back on the tray before turning to the door and bidding the person to enter.

The door slowly opened and the man walked in, his eyes searching the room until they found Dean. He was no longer in his white ripped tunic, but instead in a dark green shirt bearing the crest of Siohan over the right breast with white cuffs on the sleeves and collar, the mark of a servant, tan breeches and polished leather boots. He was still wearing the shackle around his neck and his wings were still restrained behind him. He walked forward quickly, and then slowed, seeming to remember his place and stopped, bowing his head and folding his hands in front of him.

"Your highness sent for me," the man asked, and though his head was down his voice was still too bold for someone in his current position should have been.

Dean nodded, and then remembered that the man wasn't looking at him. "Yes, I did. I needed to know something." He paused; trying to pick the best way to go about it. He decided it would probably be easier if he just got straight to the point. "Why did you do it?"

The man looked up then, his clear blue eyes locking with Dean's and his head tilting slightly to the side, brows furrowed. "Excuse me?"

Dean sighed loudly. "Why did you save me, you know back there in the trees?"

"Because you are clean and whole," he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, though to Dean it made about zero sense.

_Great, _he thought. _Just great! I finally get to talk to the guy and when I do I find out he talks like Sam does when he's geeking out about some old dusty legend. _Realising that that was probably the best answer he was going to get at this time Dean looked for something else to think about. That's when he noticed the marks on the man's face. Besides the wound on his temple from when he had been knocked down by the guards, there were several bruises quickly forming on his face and another cut just below his eye. The man noticed Dean staring and appeared embarrassed by the marks, this caused the anger Dean felt earlier to rise up again, startling him somewhat.

"Um, aren't you going to heal those? You know like what you did with your arm before," Dean asked pointing to the man's face. The man turned away slightly, his eyes leaving Dean's.

"I cannot. These symbols prohibit me from using my powers at all," he said quietly, tugging at the shackle around his neck. Dean leaned forward a bit and caught sight of a strange symbol that had been etched into the metal. How a small little carving stopped this man from using the great power that he clearly possessed was beyond Dean, but then again he didn't really know much about this stuff.

"So, the guards did this to you?"

The man nodded. "Yes. You king seems to have a hard heart towards those who are innocent, not even bothering to hear them out before dropping a harsh punishment down on them, not caring in the slightest what the outcome may be."

Dean tensed and even though he knew the man was right, that was his dad this man was talking about. It was an instant instinct to get defensive when he heard people talk badly about him and that's exactly what happened. Of course when Dean got defensive he often ended up doing stupid things. "Well maybe you're not so innocent," he snapped. "How does an innocent guy like you come across a sword like yours? Unless you stole it! But more likely you were in some sort of army beforehand, then why are you out here? You're probably a deserter, a man who abandoned his fellow soldiers during a battle and ran off into the woods. If that's true then you got off easy with this punishment. Men like that are cowards, the lowest scum on the earth and don't deserve any kindness whatsoever," Dean finished, his agitation having grown throughout and now left his shoulders tensed and fists clenched.

The man's head shot up and Dean took an involuntary step back. His eyes had morphed into icy blue flames that bore into Dean sharper than any knife could, his whole face was darkened with anger and for a split second he thought the man was going to attack him. Then suddenly the look was gone, replaced with an impassive one, his eyes blocked and not letting any part of his feelings show. "Since it is obvious you have no work for me I shall tend to my other duties." Then the man turned on his heel and headed towards the door.

It took Dean a bit to recover from the moment. The man's change was so quick that he thought perhaps he had imagined the previous anger. Then he noticed exactly what the man was doing and he puffed up indignantly. "Stop! I did not dismiss you." The man ignored him and opened the door, ready to step through. "I said stop servant!"

The man stiffened slightly, then without turning he spoke, his voice soft but edged. "My name, is Castiel."

And with that he was gone.

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><p><strong>Ta Da! There you guys have it, the next chapter and Dean and Castiel finally get to speak to each other! YEAH! Hope it satisfies all you hungry readers that I know crave for this story ;)<strong>

**HELP!: Oh and I really need your guy's opinions on something. I have been toying with the idea of this being a Destiel fic, because I absolutely **_**adore **_**Destiel but I want to know what you guys want! So drop me a PM or tell me in the comments it would help a lot with the decision!**

**As a little birdy told me you guys are wonderful reviewers (and yes I totally can talk to birds). So send me a review, those things are like chocolate to me and help me write write write! Oh and one more thing before I forget, Exams are coming up soon and I'll try to get a chapter out before they start but no promises. Until next time!**

**SPNAngelGirl**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey Everyone**

**Well lookie here, a chapter! Yeah that's right, I was able to pull myself away from the gravitational pull of my text books to write another chapter for you guys. I stayed up till 3:30 in the morning to get this out, and I warn you, it's the shortest chapter I've ever written but you guys' reviews spurred me on and I couldn't leave you guys for long. Thank you to all who reviewed, favorited and alerted this story and to all who are choosing to stick with it! LOVE YOU ALL!**

**In other news, due to popular vote (and the fact that my life was threatened if I didn't comply) this is now a Destiel fic. But I also received a few PM's from readers saying that they usually didn't read Destiel's and so didn't really vote for it. In order to make everyone happy, this is going to be a light Destiel fic, not heavy in any sense of the word so don't worry :) . Thanks to all who voted, it made the decision simpler. And now on to the chapter!**

**Disclaimer: *sigh*….seriously, if I owned this Supernatural, half the shit that we're not happy with wouldn't even have happened. Also Cas would have worn a black v-neck at one point!**

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><p>Dean stomped down the castle halls, the dark scowl on his face deterring anyone from getting in his way. But he hardly noticed the people scurrying to clear a path for him, his thoughts were to occupied by the events that had transpired in his room.<p>

After that man, _Casliel….Casmiel…something like that_ had left his room Dean had stared at the door in shock. His brain just refused to admit to itself that a servant, a lowly worker under his command had just walked out on him. Being the prince it had never happened before, no one ever disobeyed his orders, not kitchen girls, guards or servants. But then again, he sure as hell didn't act like a servant, he acted more like someone who was used to being obeyed. But he also had a small humble air about him, as if he too had grown up to obey orders from certain people, like a high ranking soldier. Suddenly the reaction that man had to Dean's abandonment comment made sense, and Dean did have to admit it was a pretty assed moved, but he wasn't going to say that out loud.

And so Dean had the confines of his room to go and find the one thing that he knew would calm him down. Impala.

Impala was Dean's horse. Tall, sleek and black, she was Dean's pride and joy and he took great care in her well-being. He had found her on day while he was out riding the rolling hills of their land with Sam and a few other boys. They had just topped a rise to look out over the grass covered earth when he spotted her. Flying like the wind with her mane and tale trailing behind her like banners, she raced across the hills with such ease and grace that it was breathtaking. Dean never got worked up like that over pretty much anything, besides a nice warm apple pie from the kitchens, but when he saw this creature move he knew he just had to have her.

And so they had given chase, rushing after her, each one of them straining to be the one to get her first. But she proved to be too fast for them and speed well out of reach even after the point that their horses got too tired to keep the pace. The other boys had eventually grown tired of this frivolous action and had taken off to a small lake surrounded by a sparse amount of trees to swim, but Dean was nothing if not stubborn, even back then. He trailed the boys to the trees, but while they stripped and jumped into the clear water, he slipped away alone, He had had this strange feeling that other horses would only propel this one farther from him, so he set out on foot until he was far enough into the grass lands that the patch of trees was just a lump in the distance. And there he waited.

He had waited for a long time, the grass reaching up to tickle his leg through the fabric of his trousers and he stood in the same spot for what felt like hours. Just as he had been about to reluctantly admit defeat and head back, he saw the black coated beauty top a rise to his right.

Dean had waited with bated breath as she paused and stared out at the vast fields, before zeroing in on him. They had stood there, staring at each other, neither one moving or breaking the eye contact. Then, ever so slowly, she started moving down the hill towards him, her eyes never straying from his as she approached him. Before Dean knew it she was standing right in front of him, her big dark brown eyes watching his every move as he slowly reached his hand out towards her.

His hand had rested on the length of her nose, giving it a tiny scratch and marveling when she lowered her head so he could pat her in between her ears. Then, as cautiously as she could, he had started moving around her, his hand traveling from her head, down her neck and then along her side until he was standing right beside her. It was then that he had realized just how tall she was, standing beside her he saw that the very top of his head just peaked over the top of her back. He had reached up and placed his hands on her back, and while whispering reassurances to her, hoisted himself up until he was astride her. The toned strong muscles had shifted underneath him as she moved and he had patter her reassuringly on the shoulders, amazed at just how high up he was. She had turned her head to look at him in the eye, then had promptly thrown him off.

A connection was made that day, as Dean picked himself up from the ground with a curse and had looked up to see what he could swear to this day was an honest-to-god smirk on the horse's face. That day she had shown Dean that she was the kind of girl that was her own master and that she wasn't going to take shit from anyone, especially not him. If he wanted this it was going to be a partnership and Dean had instantly respected her for it.

It had taken a few more tries before he was able to sit on her back for more than five seconds before she threw him off, seemingly as some kind of twisted horse joke, but the looks that the other boys had given him when he rode back to the trees on her had definitely made it worth it. He had lifted his head and puffed out his chest, starting to boast to them just how good of a horse tamer he was, when he was reminded about their agreement with another mouthful of dirt as he face planted into the ground. And he never forgot after that, always remembering to look after her, care for her and give her the respect she deserved, and in return she was strong, fierce and loyal to no one but him. They had something special and she was the one thing in Dean's life he could always count on to just be there.

Dean pushed through the doors of the stables, waving off the stable hands before they rushed over with their 'always willing to please' smiles. The building smelled familiarly of sweat, fresh hay, and the distinct musky smell of horses. Dean breathed deeply and sighed with content, this is the place he felt truly at ease. He walked over to the stall that Impala was always in and was surprised to see it empty. This meant she was outside in the corrals, so Dean turned and headed towards the far doors.

He stepped out into the bright sun light, the sound of hooves against dirt reaching his ears as he raised a hand to his eyes. There were several horses out and about in the corrals, some trotting around, others grazing quietly in small groups. Dean spotted Impala in one of the farther corrals, alone with her head down for better access to the small pile of hay she was eating from. Dean sauntered over to the edge and clicked his tongue, watching as her head lifted and her ears perked up, gaze instantly locking with his.

"Hey baby," he said with a big smile. "How about you come on over here so I can see how my girl's doing." She simply snorted at him and tossed her head, Dean was sure that if she could roll her eyes she would have, before returning back to her hay pile. Basically telling him, in her own little way, to sit his ass down and wait, she'd be over when she was finished.

Dean chuckled and turned around to lean his back against the wooden boards. Good ol Impala, she would never change.

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><p>Castiel gently closed the door to his quarters, then turned and leaned back against the dark wood with a sigh. The day was over, all the work finished and he had been given the freedom to head off to bed. He stood and peered around, taking in every speck of his new living space.<p>

It was small and cramped. A thin wooden bed with a very lumpy looking mattress was pressed against one corner, a short table and a single chair against the other, and a tiny chest at the foot of the bed completed the limited furnishings. There was no window in the room and the only light came from the single fat little candle squatting in its holder on the table. It wasn't grand by any standards, but it was warm and it had a roof so it was good enough for the moment. Castiel wasn't planning on using this room often anyway as he was only planning on staying here as long as it would take to learn the lay out of the castle so it would be easier to plan out an escape.

Castiel moved over to the bed, after changing into the white night shirt that had been set out for him, and slipped under the scratchy sheets, lying on his side so as not to further aggravate his painfully bound wings. Not for the first time that day he wished he could have the freedom to pull them back into his body, away from the humans to see. He felt, in a way violated with so many eyes being able to see the most sacred part of him, but he did feel some gratitude to the fact that, as far as he knew, no one had touched them yet. Small blessings still existed.

Castiel closed his eyes and tried to get his body to relax and rest, but his mind kept wandering and soon it was filled with thoughts of the Crown Prince. _What was his name? _He thought back to the time that the guards were 'putting him in his place' they had called the prince something. _Dean_ his brain supplied the name easily.

When Castiel had first seen Dean in the woods it had been from a distance, but he had been astounded. He saw into Dean's inner being and it was just breathtaking. Emanating right from Dean's very core was a bright light, so white and pure, with accents of a rich forest green flashing through it. Not even the suffocating waters of the black lake could dampen its intensity and Castiel felt himself drawn slightly to it, like a moth to an open flame. And that light was what pushed him to save Dean from the water, he could tell that this man was destined for something big, something that Castiel couldn't even understand. Even after the encounter in the prince's chambers, he still felt himself unexplainably drawn to the man, a fact that made him slightly uneasy.

Castiel sighed and shifted so he was facing the wall, forcefully throwing all thoughts of the man out of his mind so he could get some rest. And that's when he felt it. A small spark ignited in the back of his brain, alerting him to something important. It wasn't a thought, but a sensation that was slowly growing bigger until it morphed into a presence.

Castiel shot up, his eyes growing wide and realization hit him. He recognized the presence he sensed, it was full of darkness, searing heat and the feeling of being covered in filth. Evil. And it was growing closer by the second.

He jumped out of bed, slipping into his trousers and boots before throwing open the door and rushing into the hallway beyond. His pace quickening into a run as his feet carried him in the direction of what he believed to be the armoury. There wasn't much time.

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><p><strong>Well there you go. Another cliff hanger! *dodges rotten tomato*Look I'm sorry, I was going to write more but what I have planned next just couldn't be split up and it would have taken too long to include it in this chapter, and I just didn't have the time. So you'll have to wait. Again sorry about the shortness, but think of it this way. Next chapter will be super awesome for you guys to make up for this one :D<strong>

**Reviews are like the chocolates of romance for my young lover heart! Anonymous reviews are enabled on this story, so please drop me a few. All who do, get an edible Chocolate Statue of any Supernatural character of their choice! Now off to study my brains out again, whish me luck. Until next time**

**SPNAngelGirl**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey Everyone**

**Whew! That was a long break. Sorry about leaving your guys alone for so long, that must have been extremely difficult on your poor brains (since I was mean and left you on a cliffhanger). Well exams were finished and then my family went camping for like EVER, but it was really relaxing and gave me time to write a lot, then right after we got back I started work, so I had no time to write while learning about my new job. But the time I did get to write while camping really helped because I believe I wrote a kick ass chapter for you all :) Nice and long to!**

**In other news, I'm not sure if it was because last time's chapter was so small, or maybe because it sucked but I only got two reviews for it. TWO! Well that made me a VERY SAD PANDA to say the least and may have had a hand in how long it took to get this one out. I'm not expecting paragraphs but you know, after you're done reading the chapter just a little note telling me if you liked it or what you thought could make it better etc, would really make my day. Btw, thank you SO MUCH to IzzyGirl45 and The Mysterious Shadow for leaving me a review, it made me smile. And to all those who alerted and favorited, you get my lovens to! Now for the real reason why you came here**

**Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't profit. Don't sue (please) Eric Kripke is the guy to talk to.**

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><p>Dean walked down a large torch lite corridor and smiled and winked to a passing servant girl with an armful of fluffy towels. She was a cute little thing, the blush creeping across her cheeks as she dipped to give him a curtsy only emphasizing that fact. She gave him a shy smile and hurried off down the hall leaving Dean chuckling lightly to himself as he opened the door to his rooms.<p>

He didn't think he would've been able to hook up with her anyway. He had already tried with another girl once today, but it hadn't worked out, mainly because ever since he had left Impala at the stables he had felt a mild irritation. But not as in his own feelings, almost like a feeling that was detached from the rest of him, nestled in the farthest corner of his brain. It was quite faint so he had been able to ignore it for most of the day except for one time when it grew so big it pushed itself to the front of his mind, changing his own mood and making him snap at an unsuspecting servant. It faded quickly after that though, slowly thinning out until now when he couldn't feel it anymore. But just the fact that it had been there in the first place set him on edge to much to be able to properly enjoy himself.

Dean passed through the anteroom and into his room, shedding his shirt as he went and discarding it onto a chair in the bedroom corner. He walked over to a white bowl sitting on a dark oak table that held a delicate yellow pitcher filled with cool water. He lifted the pitcher, pouring the water into the bowl and picked up the small cloth folded beside it. He dunked it into the water, rung it out and then ran it over his face, chest and up his arms, washing away the seat and grime from the day. Just as he was running it over his left shoulder he felt a small bump, followed by a dull pain coming from the skin in that area. Frowning Dean dropped the cloth back in the water and walked over to the full length mirror beside his wardrobe, turning his shoulder to the object in to catch a better look.

"What the-"

There, stretched across the skin of his shoulder was a perfect handprint. It looked like a burn, the fiery red standing out against his tanned skin, and when he lightly ran his fingers over the raised area, the skin ached and prickled from his touch.

_How the hell did that get there?_ He thought, unable to pull his eyes away from the strange sight. He tried to think back to the events of the day, replying them back in his mind, trying to vain to remember when something had happened that caused him to come out with that on his arm.

Dean groaned and shook his head, it was just too much. Too many things had happened today; he just couldn't think properly, he needed sleep. He quickly went around closing curtains against the quickly darkening sky, then he moved over to the far wall, unbuckling his sword belt and hanging it up on the proper hook in the wall before finally walking over to the large bed. He kicked his boots off and fell back onto the fluffy sheets in his trousers, not bothering to worry about taking them off.

He lay there for a time, listening to the sound of the wind blowing around outside, and then Dean Winchester, Crown Prince of Siohan, fell asleep to that sound.

The wind twisted past the castle's towers, moving around the hard stone work and down into the twilight lite courtyard. There it brushed over the corpses of the stable hands strewn across the stone floor, faces permanently frozen in silent screams to where an army of shadows slowly advanced.

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><p>Sam usually spent some time in the library before going to bed, it was his routine. Books were so fascinating, full of little treasures of their own just waiting to be dug up. And being surrounded by them just had sort of a calming effect on him.<p>

So he wasn't prepared in the least when he walked out, arms full of books, and almost ran right into another man coming in.

They stood there and stared at each other, both in shock at the other's sudden appearance. The man was dressed in all black, hunched over like he had been sneaking around, with a gleaming dagger in his hand. That was all he was able to see before the man let out a loud screech and launched himself at him.

Sam dodged the dagger that sliced at his throat, dropping the books on the ground in order to bring his fist up and smash it into the man's chest, sending him sprawling across the floor. The man wasted no time though in pushing himself back to his feet and Sam, after realizing he wasn't carrying a weapon, turned on his heel and raced off down the hall.

_Where the hell is everyone? _Sam thought as he rushed down corridor after empty corridor not another soul in sight, He wasn't even sure where he was running to, all he knew was he had to get away from the footsteps chasing him. The ones that were growing louder with each passing moment.

Sam skidded around a corner and came face to face with dark hair and blue eyes. It took him a moment to realize that it was the man from the throne room, the one his father had unfairly sentenced. The one with wings, he remembered as his eyes fell on the dark appendages bound behind him. His face was stern and he was carrying a slim silver sword in his hand.

Sam opened his mouth to say something but the man's arm swept up and caught him across the chest, sending him reeling into the wall a bit behind him. That's when the other man rounded the corner and froze when he caught sight of them. It cost him dearly though as the winged man took advantage of this and rammed the sword into his throat.

The man threw back his head to scream, but instead of sound a dark, sickly colored light shot out and Sam had to close his eyes against the intensity of it. When he opened them again, the corpse was lying sprawled on the ground and the winged man had turned and was regarding him with his inhumanly light blue eyes.

Sam opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find his voice and to remember how to speak. "Are you a-"

"I will explain later," the man said, cutting him off. "Right now it is the least of your worries. There are many more like him coming, many more already here and you need to leave now," he said, gesturing to the corpse on the floor.

Sam's breath caught "What? Why are they here? Did they come to kill us-" but he was again cut off as the man walked forward waving his hand.

"I am not sure," he said. "But I do know that you need to go now if you want to live. Gather any weapons you can and take the fastest, most secluded way to the courtyard. I and your brother will meet you there. But first, would you take these bindings off," he asked, turning slightly and pointing at his wings and collar.

"Why," Sam asked, becoming a little wary.

"Well it would make protecting your brother and escaping much easier," he answered with a serious face. At the mention of Dean, Sam hurriedly searched his pockets and withdrew the little iron sticks that he used to pick locks with and slowly approached the man's wings.

It was a complicated lock, one that had him twisting and turning in order to get his tools in place. Finally it clicked open and Sam grabbed a hold of the strange binding, then as gently as possible, lifted it off of the wings. As soon as they were free the man lifted them high and stretched them a little, rolling his shoulders. Sam then moved on to the collar, which had quite an easier lock and was soon clicking open and falling into his hands.

"My thanks to you," he said, turning away from him and starting forward down the corridor, stepping over the corpse as he went.

"Wait," Sam called after him. "I'm coming with you, I have to! He's my brother," he said as if that explained everything, and really to Sam it did. There was no way he could just go and leave Dean behind, not while he could stay and help keep him out of danger.

"You cannot," the man said sternly. "One person is faster and less noticeable than two. You will only be in the way. Do as I told you to do and hurry, there is very little time." With that the man took off down the corridor, turning into another at the end.

Sam stood there staring after him long after he disappeared from sight, wanting nothing more than to take off after him. Then his brain kicked in, telling him the man was right, he had another job to do. It was up to him to make sure they got out of the courtyard okay. They were depending on him to make sure all the necessary supplies that they need were with them, not to mention a way out of the courtyard. With that in mind he hurried off towards the servant's quarters.

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><p>Dean woke up abruptly to the feeling of someone watching him. He sat up straight and looked around the room, relaxing a bit when his eyes didn't immediately land on someone. Then he realized it was dark and to be able to see properly he would need some light. Fumbling in the dark he finally found the candle beside his bed and lite it.<p>

The room was the same as when he fell asleep, not a single thing out of place. From the shirt tossed in the chair, hanging half off the arm to touch the floor, to his sword belt hanging on its hook on the wall. And yet he still had a very uneasy feeling in his stomach.

Dean quickly slipped on his boots and shirt, grimacing at the strong smell wafting off of it. Then he moved over to grab his sword belt and settle it around his waist before picking up the candle holder and moving into the anteroom.

The anteroom was slightly lighter because the far window's curtains were drawn back, letting a small amount of light in from the sliver of moon sitting in the late night sky, bathing the floor in a silvery glow. The candle flickered as he moved the orange light cutting through the pale glow and casting eerie shadows that danced up the walls. Dean slowly moved around the room, eyes peeled as he searched for anything out of place. Finding nothing he made his way over to a small table and set the candle down, trying to write off his feeling as a repercussion from the day's events. That's when an arm circled his neck from behind and tried to lift him off the ground.

Dean's instincts kicked in and he reached up with his right hand to grab the arm. His left arm shot back to elbow his attacker in the stomach while his right foot stepped forward, giving him the momentum he needed to hurl them over his shoulder. They landed with a loud thud and when Dean looked up, it was to see a man all dressed in black getting to his feet. He felt his mouth drop open when the man's eyes, which were once a dusty brown, flicked to pure black, darker then midnight under a new moon.

"What the," Dean began but cut off when four more men stepped out of the shadows, dressed in the same way as the first. "Oh you've gotta be friggin kidding me!"

Two of them launched at him, black eyes flashing and he quickly ducked, punching one in the stomach and tripping the other one up with his foot, the action giving him time to draw his sword. The third man though connected a fist to his mouth before he was booted backward, hitting the table and flipping it on his way down.

"Alright," Dean said, reaching up to wipe away a line of blood running from his mouth, and then raising his sword. "Which one of you bastards is next?" But that was as far as he got in his taunt because one of them raised his hand, pointing it at him and suddenly Dean went flying backwards. His back hit the far wall hard, the air knocking out of him, his sword falling from his grip and clattering to the ground. The man slowly advanced, drawing a knife from behind his back as he did, his other hand still raised.

"Well well well, Dean Winchester. I've heard you're famous in this kingdom for causing trouble," he said smiling slightly.

"I've been known to do that." Dean shot him a smirk, putting up a smug outer facade though inside he was really confused. How did this guy know his name? "Why, are you looking for a good time?"

The man actually chuckled at this, shaking his head back and forth. "Be coy all you want, but let's not forget whose holding the knife here," he said, waving the weapon in Dean's face for extra emphasis. "But now I only have one question for you. Where is he?"

"Where's who," Dean asked, now extremely confused.

"Don't play dumb, you know who we're talking about," the man hissed, leaning in close and pressing the blade against his throat. "Now, I'm going to clarify for you just to make sure we have no more misunderstandings. Where. Is. The Prince?"

Dean was just about to tell this guy that he didn't know any other fucking Prince, when suddenly the man's eyes grew wide and something wet hit Dean's face. He looked down to see the tip of a sword protruding out of the center of the man's chest, blood quickly blooming across his dark shirt. A sickly dark light forced Dean to close his eyes, and when he opened them it was to see the sword being wrenched from the body, which feel to the floor and revealed a familiar figure.

"Castiel," Dean breathed just as whatever invisible force that was holding him up disappeared and he dropped to the floor, landing hard on his rear. Castiel stood above him, the slim sword from earlier, now dripping with dark blood, was held in his hand, the white shirt and breeches he was wearing flecked across with that same shiny red. For a moment all Dean could do was sit there and stare as the pale glow of the moonlight mixed with a different orange color danced across his features, leaving the left side of his face in shadows. Dean didn't know how long he stared for when he caught sight of a dark shape over Castiel's shoulder. "Look out!"

Castiel whipped around quickly, his wings flaring out to help him balance as he clashed with the blade of another man, the force sliding his feet back across the expensive rugs till he hit a wall. His arms strained, feet finding leverage on the stone wall and he surged forward, using his sword to knock the blade aside and plant a fist across the man's jaw. A growl escaped deep in his throat as he whipped his right wing out to halt another enemy's advance and knock him to the ground, the glossy black feathers catching the dancing light from the flames.

_Wait, flames? _Dean's head shot around to where the side table lay on its side, and there was a roaring fire, quickly growing with intensity. When the table had been knocked over the candle went with it, falling on top of the carpet and the hungry flames quickly ate away at the delicate thread, moving on to quickly devour half the table and dark green curtains until it had spread over half the floor and up the walls.

Unwillingly Dean's mind grasped his memories and transported him back in time to that faithful night fifteen years ago. The night that the fierce flames haunted and the image of a young boy holding a precious bundle close as a sharp west wind blew across his face and added to the disaster.

"Close your eyes!" The cry from Castiel pulled Dean from his trance in time to see the man gripping a dark dressed man by his forehead. His eyes squeezed shut as a bright flash exploded into the room, blinding even behind the protection of his eyelids. He had to blink dark blue and purple spots from his vision that blocked his view, but he could still hear the sounds of the fight going on around him. The men still fought, locked into a deadly dance that Castiel was obviously more practiced in, for soon enough he plunged his sword deep into soft flesh and with one more weak scream, the last man fell to the stained floor leaving him standing there panting heavily.

Dean used the wall to help push himself to his feet and hurried over to the man, laying a hand on his shoulder. Castiel looked over and they locked gazes, Dean's breath catching when he looked into those blue eyes, dark in the shadows and reflecting the light of the angry flames still raging around them.

"Are you alright?"

Dean straightened quickly, suddenly feeling embarrassed at the fact that he had needed someone to come to his rescue and looked around for something to distract from that conversation. The loud cracking of timbre brought his attention back to the perfect and most impertinent one and he looked back at Castiel, gesturing to the space around them. "That can wait till we get out of here, which should be soon by the way before the whole friggin roof comes down on our heads," he exclaimed, eyeing the flames warily.

Castiel glanced around the room, seeming to have just noticed the fire eating away at the many furnishings and nodded, crouching to wipe his blade on the coat of a fallen corpse. "Very well," he said straightening and turning around. "Hurry and grab you weapon, we must leave before it is too late, our activities will draw attention eventually."

Suddenly something occurred to Dean that he is fairly ashamed to admit he hadn't thought of until just now. "Wait, I need to go get Sam. I need to make sure-"

"He's safe," Castiel said as he observed the room closely. "He awaits us outside. Now hurry, there isn't much time."

Dean hurried back over to the wall and picked up his sword that had fallen when he had been thrown back, sheathing it on his belt. Suddenly a loud sound could be heard outside the room and both men spun to look to the door. Castiel launched himself to the door, pressing his hand against the wood. A deafening slam echoed into the room and something rammed into the door, pushing Castiel backwards but surprisingly not shattering the wood. "What did you do," Dean asked, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Buying us what little time I can in order to allow us time to escape."

Dean franticly swiveled around, looking for another door to get out, but couldn't find anything. He couldn't understand how they were going to escape. Castiel didn't seem to be having that problem though as he grasped Dean's arm tightly and started running forward, towards the window on the far wall. Dean didn't get a chance to protest as Castiel turned his back to the window and hurled through the glass, his wings snapping out to catch them in the air and slow their decent.

The minuet Dean's feet touched the cobble stone of the courtyard he wrenched his arm away from Castiel's grip, turning on shaky legs to glare at him.

"What the hell was that for," he shouted, anger boiling over at the man in front of him. But before he could go farther he heard his name called. Dean turned and saw Sam step out of the shadows, the reigns for three horses held in his hand, Impala among them. He hurriedly made his way over to where his brother was, patting him on the shoulder and stroking his horse's neck affectionately. Sam took one look at his appearance and made as if to say something, but was interrupted by the approach of Castiel, who had at some point done something with his wings so they could no longer be seen.

"Quick we must make haste," he said, ushering them towards the horse's saddles. "We cannot afford to be caught by them." With that he climbed into the saddle of a tall bay.

Under the cover of night, moving through the shadows, three figures made their way discreetly through the castle's tall gates, slipping past the darkness guarding the way. Then they galloped into the rolling plains, the cries of those who perished that night chasing them at their heels as a heavy blanket of death settled over the once mighty capital of the kingdom of Siohan.

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><p><strong>Well there you guys go, I pray it was all you guys were hoping for. I heard from my two reviewers from the last chapter that they were pretty excited to see Cas in action and I hope I delivered! I have to say, I'm really proud with how this chapter came out and normally I'm not that satisfied with my writing. There's always something I feel should be fixed but not really with this one. Speaking of that finale scene I was actually listening to the song adaptation of the Highwayman (my favorite poem) by Loreena Mckennitt and I started thinking about doing a one shot using that storyline. What do you guys think? <strong>

**Anywho, you guys understand what I'm saying now after my little spill up at the beginning. Please Please PLEASE review and tell me what you think, it may not seem like much but it really really helps me out a lot. So right now, I know you can see the little review button at the bottom, just click on it and leave me a little message. Go on, click, you know you want to! Again hope you guys enjoyed. Until next time!**

**SPNAngelGirl**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey Everyone**

***dodges rotten tomato* alright alright, I admit that was a long break. But I have to say I had an excuse. There was some family matters that came up, and I won't get into them, and I was needed away from this story. But I have worked hard to get you another chapter and HERE IT IS! Thank you to all who reviewed, alerted and favorite this story. And WELCOME to all newcomers, your presence is loved! Now feast your eyes and enjoy. **

**Disclaimer: Ya well guess what, I DO own Supernatural so nah nah nah nah nah…alright JK all rights are Eric Kripke's, I just like to dream**

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><p><em>It's hot<em>

"_Get out!"_

_It's dark_

"_Go!"_

_There's an orange light. A creaking noise_

"_NOW!"_

_The voice fades_

_Yellow eyes laugh_

_Something snaps_

_It's hot_

_It's dark_

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><p>Dean woke with a start, arms and legs flailing out and his cloak launching into the unknown. His chest rose and fell with heavy short breaths as he tried to focus on the real world around him. But try as he might, the memory of that all too familiar dream continued to plague his mind, refusing to be deterred completely from his thoughts. He was drenched in sweat, causing his shirt to cling to him like a second skin and his hair to plaster like mud to his scalp.<p>

As his breathing slowed and his heart rate dropped he began to take notice to his surroundings again, specifically how cool the air was. He could feel the goose bumps rising on his sticky wet arms and shivers started making their way down his spine. He looked around the area for his cloak, and spotted it strewn half across Sam's face a few feet away. His brother had somehow managed to curl his giant frame into a tiny ball and was still snoring away, having failed to notice the intrusion. Dean couldn't help but smile slightly at the sight, amazed at just how kid-like his brother looked while sleeping.

It was early morning, pink just starting to tint the edges of the slate gray sky. A cool wind had started to blow up the grassy hills; disturbing the dew that decorated the leaves of the clump of trees they had taken shelter under for the night. This caused the small drops to drip off the edges, falling to land right on Dean's face. He gave a shake and scrubbed a hand across his face, dislodging the liquid from his eyes. Then with a sigh he turned on his side in an attempt to get so more sleep.

"You're awake, good." And that idea just grew wings and flew out the window. Dean turned back over to see the owner of the gravelly voice. Castiel stood over him, staring down with his un-naturally blue eyes.

"Why in the hell is that good," Dean asked, pushing himself up on his elbows so he wasn't in such a vulnerable position.

"We must be on our way," he said simply. The man looked like he was about to say more when a particularly loud snore erupted from the sleeping lump beside him. Castiel turned his eyes to his younger brother sternly.

"Samuel." Castiel's voice boomed at the snoozing mass. Sam flailed, both cloaks flying off and his long limbs spreading out to either side of him. He looked up to them, blinking away sleep dust and straining to see through his long mop of bed head hair.

"Wha-what," he slurred out, hazel eyes darting to take in the surrounding area, searching for any signs of trouble. Finding none they bounced back to shift between the two for them before settling on Dean.

"Wingman says it's time to go," Dean explained, jerking a thumb at Castiel who nodded in agreement. Then he turned around and pointed to himself with the same thumb. "But I say we sleep a little longer, instead of getting up at the ass crack of dawn."

"We must continue on," Castiel said, a frown wrinkling his forehead.

"Really? Well _**I'm**_ the Crown Prince which makes _**me**_ the one in charge and_** I **_say we sleep." Dean pushed himself to his feet and directed his hardest glare at the shorter man.

Castiel didn't back down an inch, staring back at him head on, almost seeming to loom despite his height. "I am not under your authority."

"You're in my damn kingdom! That means you have to follow my orders!"

"Those demons are behind us," Castiel said as he flung his arm out in the direction they had ridden from, his voice rising. "And they _**will**_ find us if we don't leave soon."

"Is that what those bastards are called? Demons?" The word felt so strange on Dean's tongue, but even the name of those creatures caused a shudder to travel down his spine. Castiel nodded and opened his mouth, but Dean barreled on over him. "Well that's great! Now we know what they are! While you're at it how about telling us where the hell they came from? Or better yet, just what the hell you are!"

"He's an Enochian." Dean turned to see Sam hurriedly jumping to his feet, hazel eyes alight with barley contained excitement. "You are, right?"

Castiel took a moment to study Sam before answering. "Yes."

And Dean saw firsthand the effect it had on his brother. A small smile stretched across his face and he stared at the man with wide eyed amazement. It reminded him of how it was when their mother told them her stories.

Dean wiped the growing smile off his own face, replacing it with a frown which he directed at Castiel. "I thought the Enochians left thousands of years ago. If that's true then what the hell are you doing down here?"

"I…" Pause. "I'm not sure," he said, slight puzzlement creeping up into his face.

Dean snorted. "You're not sure," he mocked. "One of the most powerful beings around, and you're not sure?"

"I cannot seem to recall why," Castiel snapped, staring at Dean hard, his eyes holding a warning. It was as if he could sense that Dean had just been about to laugh at him. "But it does not matter right now," he continued, turning to look back almost thoughtfully at the way they had come. "The fact of the matter is, your assailants will have noticed by now that you and your brother are gone. So it would be wise if we left before they get the chance to catch our trail."

"He's right Dean." Sam said, finally turning from his hard Enochian studying to look at his older brother. "We have to warn the rest of the kingdom as well. For all we know those, Demons, might try to attack the other villages," he continued, seeming to get a little anxious. "The Lords and Ladies need to be warned."

"All of them," Dean exclaimed, shooting his brother an incredulous look. "Sam, there's only two of us…uh three of us," he corrected himself, glancing at Castiel. "And even if one of us does have wings," another glance at the Enochian. "There's no way we can spread the news fast enough if those bastards are bent in wiping out the kingdom-"

"The High Seat," Sam interrupted, snapping his fingers as an excited gleam entered his eyes. "Or, as the case would be now, the High Lady. We can go to her; she after all has the second largest army in the kingdom. She can help get the message out."

Dean stared at his brother in horror. "Are you crazy! Don't you remember what happened last time we saw her?"

"Dean," Sam's face turned stern, his eyes hardening into one of his bitch faces as his hands found their way to his hips. "You yourself just said we can't do this alone. Maybe not using those words," He said, raising his hand to forestall the denial he knew was about to leave his big headed brother's lips. "But you meant the same thing. It doesn't matter what happened! Not when the lives of all our people are at stake! You're not suggesting we ignore that fact for the sake of your little spat?"

"Of course not," Dean shouted, indignation coloring his voice at the thought he would sacrifice people's lives.

"It is decided then," Castiel said, stepping between the brothers before the argument escalated. He turned to Sam who's full attention shot to the man the minuet he spoke. "If you know the fastest route to the High Lady, I suggest we make haste down it, and quickly."

Sam seemed to have sensed his urgency and jumped like a trained dog to comply. He hurried to his saddle bag and pulled out a map of the kingdom which he had made sure to grab from the servant's quarters. It wasn't very detailed and it had large creases from being folded so many times, not to mention all the small water stains in the corners that had smudged out the small compass, but it showed the landscape well enough. The capital of Siohan was marked with a large eight point star and other larger villages were properly named, as well as roads and bridges. Sam scanned the map, finger dragging across the rough parchment before planting firmly on a spot south of the capital.

"Here she is," he exclaimed. "By law the High Seat must be the closest out of all the Seats to the capital in order to provide quick aid when needed. Her manor will be located at this village, so that is our destination." He then pointed to another spot on the map, a little above the first mark. "This is where we are and if we were to take the fastest route," his finger slide down between the two points, drawing an imaginary line. "This would be it."

Dean leaned over his shoulder to get a better look at the area. "That's going to be a good day's trek if we cut through the hills like that." He leaned in to point to a thin ink line drawn on the paper. "Now we could be there in half the time if we took the road-"

"No roads," Castiel said bluntly, cutting him off as he too leaned over to look at the map. "We cannot afford the risk of being caught."

"I thought you said we had to get away from the capital as fast as possible," Dean said, gesturing to the map. "The road is obviously the fastest way."

Castiel gave him a look that you would normally give a young child as you tried to explain something painfully simple. "I said we needed to leave as soon as we are able in order to put more distance between us and the Demons. Using the road will put us in more danger as they are also able to travel fast on it and monitor the comings and goings along it, putting us at risk of being discovered."

"And we can also use the hills for cover," Sam piped in. Dean sent him a hard, you're-not-helping glare. That was twice now his own brother had turned against him instead of backing him up. It was like he had turned into a completely different person. Dean simply threw up his hands and stalked back over to collect his cloak from the ground, leaving the two to their damn map.

When he glanced back, it was to see them both on the ground huddled over it, pointing and talking to each other like young boys playing battle. Well Sam was. Castiel was crouched beside him but his face was stony and he seemed to be considering the map with a great deal of thought, brow furrowed and looking all like a proper general.

Twenty minutes later the horses were loaded with saddle bags and blanket rolls and they were once again settling their tired bodies into their saddles and heading off, this time to the south. The sun was just raising its head, peeking over the grassy hills to cast slivers of warmth to caress the riders and paint the sky in breathtaking hues of light pinks and vibrant oranges. Though Siohan had been through one of the most terrible nights in its history, the sun seemed oblivious to the fact and carried on in its daily routine of waking the world and starting a new day. And though Dean only had a light shirt and a cloak on, he could already feel himself starting to sweat as the morning brought the promise of another hot day.

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><p>The capital of Siohan was silent, the wind seeming hesitant to even stir so much as a bit of dust in the empty city. Buildings all over lay in crumbling, half standing structures, some toppled completely, their bones scattered across the broken cobblestone. Not a living presence was found and all was quiet.<p>

Then, seeming to appear out of the very air, a small group of horses and riders were in the city limits. Majority of them were dressed in black from head to toe, all but one who had on a dark grey jacket and breeches with small silver embroidery adorning the collar and cuffs, his short light brown hair combed back neatly. He sat atop his horse, eyes scanning the skeleton like structures of the city around him with cool disinterest, gaze instead fixing on the tall towers of the palace standing darkly in the distance. Without a word he started forward, the others following close behind as the small group made their way to the palace gates.

They entered the courtyard and stopped in front of the large stables, quickly dismounting and waiting as their leader paused. The air was heavy with the smell of death and the man smiled to himself, breathing in deeply and letting out a heavy sigh of satisfaction. He looked down to the stones beneath his feet and was met with the sight of a stable maid. She lay stomach down with her face turned to the side and her eyes closed, golden hair spread out over her shoulders and around her head like a halo of sunlight. If not for the dark red staining her green dress uniform and cobblestones beneath her, she could have been sleeping peacefully, but the truth was much more delightful to the man.

A far door along the palace walls opened, drawing his attention away from the girl as two demons, also dressed in black, came out and hurried over to the newly arrived group.

"It is done," the first one said, a triumphant look on his sharp face. "The city is ours, not a solider nor a servant is left to challenge our claim.

The leader paused to study the two demons closely, specifically the one who had spoken. "And what of the royal family?" He watched as the first demon's face faltered, his eyes leaving his to shift nervously around the courtyard.

"Well…uh…the two princes…they," the demon was sweating now, large drops forming just above his brow. "They may have…um…escaped," he finished quietly.

"I see," the man said simply. "That certainly is a problem." Suddenly, quicker than a lightning bolt, a dagger was in his hands and he shoved it up the demon's chin into his head. "Of course not my problem you understand, but yours." And with that he wrenched the blade out, letting the body fall to the ground, dark light exploding from it and leaving behind another corpse.

Before the light had faded fully the man had turned to the second demon, who was standing as still as possible and literally shaking in his boots.

"I want all those you can get to be sent out to search for these boys. They can't be allowed to leave the kingdom. Do I make myself clear?" The demon nodded eagerly, eyes flashing from black to normal in his excitement to please. When the man clapped his hands the demon turned and ran back inside to fulfill his duty. Once he departed the man turned around, taking in the sight of empty surrender, might and power all wrapped up in stone, wood and silence.

"Yes," he breathed. "Father will be pleased." His eyes caught the light from the rising sun, yellow irises sucking in the heat and light into the dark void beyond.

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><p><strong>Da Da DAA! Yep there you go, that's your ending! Sorry, its short, but that's my mind setting right now….actually I'm not sorry. This is just the way the story is going and I think its going GREAT! Again though I AM sorry about the long wait but it was because of circumstances beyond my control and that's that. Thank again for reading, and I will try to post more frequently around my really busy schedule! ;)<strong>

**Now remember…the review button is your friend! And as a friend it really wants to spend some quality one-on-one time with you so why not give it the chance? Go on, you won't regret it! ****Until next time!**

**SPNAngelGirl **


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey Everyone**

**Well my accidental trip through the wormhole resulted in me landing in another demension ruled by the nightmarish monster simply known as WB (writers block). A terrible place where the school work piled up by literal moutains and the time to ones self was added up to about 0.5% of ones day! It was a horrible nightmare that I couldn't leave! I did manage to find one heartful soul that was willing to help me on my quest to get out, the Moose :) Turns out he had been trying to leave too, he just needed a partner in crime. It took us 6 months to find the portal and escape, clawing our way out while single handely fighting all evil minions in our path! But we made it back to the real world and so I have found my way back to you all! Just thought I'd fill ya in before I start receiving internet bombs of despair :P**

**Eight chapters already, well ain't that a feet! Its starting to turn into a long haul that is making me extremely greatful each day for my wonderful followers AND reviewers that have decided to stick with me (even if that means they've super glued their souls to the story...interesting method) and I can't thank you all enough! As a gift, me and the Moose have devised an extra long chapter just for YOU! Hope you enjoy :D**

**Disclaimer: After we got back we went on an undercover mission and tried to break into Eric Kripke's office and make away with the ownership papers..but unfortunetly while we were propelling down the walls we were discovered and they fired giant blobs**** of Vanilla Pudding and Mint Jello at us (WHAT)! Needless to say we lost the papers, and are now being hunted by the International Police (don't tell anyone) so the rights to Supernatural still belong to Eric Kripke...for now...**

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><p>Stone upon stone the manor was built, rising higher than most should. It's large walls smoothed without a crack, the tiled roof set firmly in place without a single one appearing to be in jeopardy of falling. Tall creeping green plants climbed up the sides, stretching to reach the top before they were trimmed back again. It's very presence was a large proclamation of wealth and power by the one person who was not afraid in the least to flaunt it.<p>

Sam looked up at the building with a sense of bewilderment. He simply just did not find this display appealing, much less appropriate for a High Lady. Yes she was the highest noble, but what was the use of building a manor so flamboyant where it casts a shadow over the village in your care, showing off for no one but the less fortunate towns people living on the other side of the courtyard wall. Frankly, it annoyed Sam to no end and he wanted nothing more than to have a talk with the 'High Lady' about a little something called responsibility.

Sam looked to his right where Dean was riding beside him. Striding atop Impala, his brother had mastered the ability to radiate power and a don't-shit-with-me attitude even when dressed in a dirty, wrinkled shirt and pants and an old cloak covered in travel dust and mused from sleep. He sat tall, head just high enough and the reins held in sturdy sure hands, the perfect picture of a man who knew his place in life and wasn't about to let anyone tell him differently.

And on the right side of his brother was Castiel, riding a sturdy tan creature with hard muscles and a strong back. When the Enochian had first jumped on the animal, Sam could tell right away that he had never ridden a horse before and he had watched it with cautious eyes. The earlier hesitation was gone now and he handled the bay well, almost as if he had been riding his whole life. Castiel as well emanated an aurora of strength, but whereas Dean's was loud and in your face, his was more of a quite strength, shown most by his stoic face and piercing eyes that seemed to catch everything, The way he carried himself and the determination that was present in his features gave him the look of a general riding beside a king into battle, and boy wasn't that a weird picture with Dean right there.

The three of them rode up to the gates of the manor, the guards standing on duty giving them disgusted, skeptical looks when Dean announced who they were, the quickly setting sun doing nothing to help their grubby appearances. But when both him and Sam showed them their signet rings, which very few had ever laid eyes on, their faces grew a shade of red that would make tomatoes jealous. The gates were opened and word was sent to the High Lady about her very important guests.

They rode to a stable where servants rushed out to help them down and take the reins of their travel weary horses to lead them to a comfortable stall and a pile of well-deserved hay. Then another handful of servants, dressed in the deep purple livery of the High Lady's house color led them through the courtyard into the manor.

The inside was just as impressive as the outside of the home. Stone walls would have created a cool haven out of the sun during the heat of the day, and the tall windows along the halls allowed for plenty of natural light. But now the shutters were closed and freshly lite candles sat on tall stands that were placed at intervals along the walls. The flickering of the single flames cast shadows along the few hanging tapestries that depicted gaily decorated parties and lush gardens, and their footsteps echoed off the arched ceilings as they walked. Sam again couldn't help but total up the cost for some of these extra expenses and them imagine just what the money could have gone to for the people instead.

They came to two large doors that were closed, a pattern trimming the edges of the dark wood and ivory handles. One of the maids curtsied and asked them to wait, then knocked and slipped inside into the room beyond.

"Wait, no recuperating bath?" Dean's voice broke the silence, indignation coloring his voice, along with a hidden hesitation. "What, does she expect us to meet with her still covered in sweat and travel dust like a bunch of wanderers?"

Sam shot a look over to his older brother at the last part and elbowed him in the ribs. They were there for an important reason, and frankly baths weren't high on the list compared to it. Dean smirked back but Sam saw the uneasiness in his eyes as he looked back to the doors and that made him wonder if what had gone on between him and the High Lady was really more than just an unfriendly spat.

Just then the doors opened and the maid came back out. "The High Lady Bella Talbot will see you now," Dean scoffed but stepped first to follow the maid back into the room, Sam on his heels and Castiel taking up the rear.

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><p>They were led into a fairly large sitting room, a fine blaze already burning in the wide fireplace of blue-veined marble. To any thief, armature or expert, it was a room that would be worth looting, with delicate porcelain vases on the gilt-edged side tables, and tapestries and carpets that could fetch a pretty price at any market. All except one which was likely worthless, now. A low blanket-covered mound lay near the edge of the room, and if the fellow that made it had not stained the carpet with his blood, Dean would eat the boots sticking out from one end.<p>

Bella herself was sitting in a carved armchair, a pretty woman in gold-embroidered, deep purple silk with an ornate belt of woven gold and a heavy gold necklace set with small diamonds around her slim neck. Glossy brown hair hung below her shoulders even when caught in a net of intricate lace. She looked delicate at first glance, but there was something vulpine about her face, and her smile never touched those big hazel eyes. She was using a lace-edged handkerchief to clean a small dagger capped with a firedrop on the pommel.

"Go tell Angsuin that I will have a...bundle...for him to dispose of later Susan," she said calmly, the light accent ever present in her voice twinning her words slightly.

The maid's face remained smooth as polished marble, but she made a curtsy that was just shy of cringing before she scuttled out of the room, closing the door as she left.

Dean scanned the room warily, being sure to watch the woman and her dagger from the corner of his eye as he strode over to the mound and lifted up the edge of the blanket. Glazed brown eyes stared blankly from a face that might have been hard, alive. The dead always did look softer.

He said something you didn't approve of," Dean smirked sarcastically as he let the blanket fall and straightened.

"He said several things I didn't approve of," she held the dagger up, studying the small blade to be sure it was clean, then slid it into a gold-worked sheath at her waist. "One of which was the fact he wished to take my head from my shoulders and display it through town."

"You usually get death threats from random strangers?"

"Oh he wasn't random," she said, staring harshly at the covered corpse. "He lived in the village."

Dean heard the gasp from behind him and could just picture his brother's horrified face. "You killed one of your citizens" Sam's shocked voice grew louder as he took a few steps forward. His face was a mix of dark anger and indignation. "Why?"

"Are you deaf," Bella asked, getting up from her chair and crossing her arms over her bosom, a smirk lifting the corner of her mouth. "The man was threatening me. I couldn't let him go with the knowledge he might attack later.'

"So that forced you to kill him? You ever heard of a prison? If he was that much of a threat to you, you need only have locked him up, you had no right to-"

"I acted within my rights as the High Lady," she interjected, swiftly cutting him off. "I believe Dean can attest to that." She winked and smiled in his direction.

Dean stood up straighter, raising his head to put even more difference in their height. "That's Crown Prince to you Lady Talbot. You may be the High Seat, but you are still below us and you need to remember that."

Bella dropped into a shallow curtsy, her moves graceful but slightly mocking to them. "Of course my Lord, I apologize. Please take a seat."

Dean nodded and strode over to a gilded couch, practically falling into it and sinking into the soft velvet cushions lining the back and seat. After sleeping on the ground and ridding in a saddle for almost two days his back was sore beyond belief. Sam sat down beside him and Bella resumed her spot in the armchair, but Castiel moved to stand just behind the couch and to the right of Dean.

Dean turned his head and gave him a look which was returned with a blank stare. He jerked his head in the direction of another armchair, trying to get him to understand. Castiel looked between him and the armchair and tilted his head slightly, his eyes showing his confusion. Dean gestured and the Enochian continued to stare.

"Oh for the love of! Would you sit down already," Dean shouted, flinging his arms at the chair in exasperation.

Castiel's eyes widened and he looked at the chair in deep consideration. Dean could feel his annoyance mounting until finally the Enochian walked around the far side and sat stiffly on the edge of the seat. A muffled huff sounded from behind Dean and his head whipped around to send a glare at his younger brother who was trying his hardest to cover his amused smile with his hand. He wasn't the only one to take notice of the situation through, Bella's eyes had zoned in on the Enochian and were watching him closely.

"And just who is this with you? If I may ask," she quickly added, dipping her head slightly.

Sam's face lite up and Dean could practically see his brother's eagerness to share his latest find with someone bubbling out of his ears. "Well you see, he's actually a-"

"Friend of ours," Dean interjected quickly. "He lives a long way away and decided to come see us a couple days ago," he added, completely ignoring the strange look Sam was giving him as the lie rolled off his tongue. The thing was, he wasn't even sure why he was trying to hide who Castiel was. He just got this sudden surge of desperation, the force so big it felt as if someone had knocked him upside the head with a big stick, leaving him light headed, and then the words popped out as if acting on the feeling. But even stranger yet, after he had said them, the feeling relaxed until it was practically gone, toned down till it was a small not in the back of his conscious. Maybe he just needed a proper night of sleep.

Bella seemed to accept the answer, though she kept stealing glances at Castiel every now and then. Just then there was a knock at the door and at Bella's call, a maid entered pushing a small cart. Sitting on the top was a tall silver pitcher of cool spiced wine, the condensation clinging to the sides in small beads, and four silver cups. The maid quickly poured the wine and distributed the cups to the occupants of the room before making a deep curtsy and exiting. Dean held onto the cup with both hands, relishing the coolness that slowly wrapped itself around his heated skin, then with a swift movement, brought the cup to his lips. The strong taste of dark wine seasoned with cloves and a hint of honey exploded onto his mouth, causing him to sigh with contentment as it lingered on his tongue. He heard the same sigh escaping his brothers mouth and when he turned to look a smile was gracing his face. But when he glanced over to Castiel, he saw that the Enochian had been staring at the drink with something akin to interest, but then had lowered the cup and was now holding it on his lap, the liquid inside remaining untouched.

"Well, now that we have the pleasantries out of the way," Bella began, placing her cup on the table beside her. "I think it is about time that you two let me know what the reason was for this spontaneous visit. I mean, it's not every day that the princes of Siohan show up at my home worn out and covered in road dust and horse sweat." She turned up her nose and smirked slightly in their direction.

Dean's fists clenched around his cup and he opened his mouth, ready to give Bella a verbal beat down, when Sam, the peace maker that he was, hurriedly interjected.

"Well we wouldn't normally come to you, uh, like this Lady Bella," Sam started, shifting on the pristine couch. "Except yesterday, late in the night, the castle was attacked." Bella's eyebrows rose high on her forehead, her face betraying her shock at the news. "As far as we know we were attacked by an army of supernatural beings that we believe are called Demons, a new form of creature that we haven't been faced with yet, but seem to possess more power than anything we have encountered in history. The castle, and the capital, were attacked and...we're sure not many survived." Sam's head dropped, eyes gazing into the dark liquid in his cup as his thoughts returned to that night. Dean shifted in the seat, clearing his throat and fiddling with his now empty cup as something to do in the tense silence that had filled the room.

Bella took another drink of her wine, face softening a little as she looked towards them. "This is, unfortunate news," she said, gaze flicking around the room distractedly. "And its good that you survived it. But," Her eyes hardened again as they swung back to pierce the boys with a direct stare. "I believe that you two came her for more than just a place to stay. I know your here because you want something from me."

Dean lifted his head and stared her right back, calling on all his intimidating presence and hoping he was succeeding in looking even half as powerful as his father had earlier yesterday. "You are the High Lady right? You sure remind us of that every time we see you. So in being the High Lady you have the second largest army in the kingdom, and the right connections and people placed throughout Siohan in order to get a message out to the other Lords and Ladies of the kingdom. We would use our own connections but seeing how their all probably dead that seems to be a little difficult."

Bella looked taken aback by the sudden bluntness, but soon understanding lite up her face as she pushed herself to her feet. "You came barrelling in here with plans to use my resources and my army because you really have nothing else?" She stood there, considering the two of them for a minuet under an unreadable expression. Then her features slowly changed until they looked almost sinister, a predatory gleam entering her eyes and she slowly moved to walk around behind the furniture.

"I do believe that this can indeed be arranged for your purposes." Her voice was soft and enticing, a hint of seduction swimming within its depths. She was behind the couch now and moving slowly along the back, delicate slippers whispering against the rugs on the floor. "Yes. I am willing to do anything I can to help in this matter. After the necessary arrangements are made of course." At this her smooth hand brushed purposefully against Dean neck, causing him to shiver and shift in discomfort on the cushions. This is exactly what he had been worried about, Bela using their need as leverage to achieve the goal she had set for herself the minute they had meet years ago.

"They say some women need only crook a finger for a fish to come." Castiel's deep voice cut through the growing tension in the room, his posture seemingly uncaring as he watched the amber liquid twist and turn as he swirled his still untouched cup. "Others have to drag their bait all over the pond."

Silence followed the comment for a total of twelve seconds. For that's when a very feminized giggle erupted from Sam's end of the couch before it could be muffled by his giant hands. But Dean didn't even try to hide his amusement at the perfectly timed comment, letting his laughter jump out and bounce around the room.

Bela straightened in a rush, cheeks tinting a faint scarlet color before she could turn away. She moved briskly back to her chair, brushing out imaginary wrinkles in her skirts to occupy her hands. When she looked up again her eyes flashed in anger that she directed at the still bowed head of Castiel, swinging around to stab Dean with the same look once he finished laughing.

"I shall send someone to show you to your rooms. I am afraid I have other business to attend to, your majesty." And with that she gathered her skirts and brushed out of the room, the large door closing with a loud bang behind her.

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><p>Dean collapsed onto the soft bed in the large guest room he had been given for the night.<p>

True to her word, after Bela had left a rush of servant girls flowed into the room, ushering the three men down different hallways until the double doors to the bath house came into view. They were led in where three large brass tubs were waiting for them, smartly dressed men waiting at each one with a large pot of steaming water ready to be dumped in. Each tub had a small wooden table beside it where a fluffy white towel, bar of soap, and scrub brush sat neatly on the top and Dean had been ready to kiss the nearest servant when he saw all this.

He and Sam had rushed over, the draw strings for their shirts already being pulled apart as they hurried out of their clothes as fast as possible. Castiel however excused himself from the awaiting relief, choosing instead to head to his room, though Dean couldn't fathom why, the man never appeared to sleep like a normal person but to each his own. Not long after the Enochian left the princes had stripped down to bare skin and were slipping into the steaming hot water, leaning against the heated metal with sighs of relief as their tight noted muscles started to relax. They allowed themselves a few minutes to soak in the warmth before grabbing soap and brushes and, with the servants' help, washed away the dirt and grime from the past couple of days.

As they had been toweling off and slipping into fresh clothes that had been laid out for them, Sam had glanced across the way to his brother, and then stopped short when he had noticed a strange mark on his arm. At his questioning look Dean had glanced down to once again come face to face with that strange hand print on his shoulder. After staring at it for a minute he had hurriedly pulled a shirt over his head, obstructing it from view . He didn't have an answers as to it's strange appearance, so trying to explain it to Sam wasn't going to be of much good.

Dean sighed and rolled over across the soft blankets, pushing himself back onto his feet and making his way across the room to the single mirror hanging on the wall. Stopping in front of it, he stared at himself for a few seconds before turning to aim his left side at the reflective surface, and then ever so slowly, lifted the sleeve of his shirt up to expose the tanned skin underneath.

The mark stared back at him, a perfect hand print moulded onto his shoulder as if it had been meant to fit there. The color had lessened slightly, so instead of an angry, fire red inflamed look, it appeared to be the more soft, pinky color of newly forming scar tissue. He reached up and gently ran his fingertips across the area, surprise gripping him when not only was there just a small twinge of pain, but the swelling had receded until he could no longer distinguish through touch where his skin ended and the print began. And even now, the events, or person, that may have caused this strange intruder were still a mystery to him.

At that thought, Dean dropped his sleeve with a heavy sigh, concluding that he was still too tired from the events of the last few days to be able to think properly and that a proper nights rest was definitely in order. At the promise of sleep, he turned on his heel and strode back across the room, eyeing the large bed with as much desire as though it was the awaiting body of one of his female companions. He stripped down, yanked back the covers, and settled into the soft sheets, allowing his heavy eye lids to close and to drop into the warm, awaiting embrace of a deep, dreamless sleep.

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><p><em>He was falling.<em>

_Not like the light airy descents he took when he tucked his wings in close and became like a single, small point, ducking lower and lower before he once again unfolded and shot back up into the air in an instant. Nor the gentle dip when he simply allowed himself to relax and so glided softly on the currents of the sky, like an echo to the wind._

_No_

_This was much different_

_There was no gentle descent, or air currents to be caught on. He was falling like a large stone, weighed down with lead, that had been thrown off a tall cliff. A mad, uncontrollable drop that scrambled his senses and shut down his instincts completely, paralyzing him for a seemingly endless amount of time._

_Finally he flared his wings out around him, stretching them as far as possible to try and catch any current he could in order to properly right himself and maybe slow himself down. But the wind simply rushed past him, whistling through his feathers mockingly, and he was left spiraling out of control, hurtling through the darkness at a speed faster than he had ever been able to obtain before. _

_And then there was pain. _

_All along every part of his body. His arms, legs, head, and wings which he pulled in close to his back, trying to protect himself the assault, but to no avail. It was as if every particle in his body was slowly being burned away, pulled apart, and then dispersed throughout the farthest reaches of the sky until they settled like small, pinprick stars on a clear night. It was unlike anything he had, nor ever wanted, to experience in his life, and even though it really only lasted for seconds, it felt like an eternity. _

_It just barley registered to him that the darkness had been chased away and was now replaced with the soft, silvery glow from half a million stars scattered across a night sky like sprinkled sugar, before his vision was filled with the small clump of trees that were rapidly drawing closer. And then, there was nothing._

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><p><strong>And...there you have it :)<strong>

**Hope you enjoyed this latest installment to the story! The characters kinda got a way from me a bit. I swear no matter what I tried to do, Cas just really wanted to say that fish line and, well it just ended up in there. He thought it was funny...I might just have to agree with him ;)**

**As always, please review! It will let the Moose and I know that our efforts to escape, write, and kidnap the deeds (not all successful) were not in vain! Thanks once again to all who follow, favorite, and review, whether old or new! You're loved more than you can imagine...in a totally platonic way of course!**

**Until next time *salutes***

**SPNAngelGirl**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey Everyone!**

**Wait..what? An update from ME?! Bet you weren't expecting that were ya? Well don't worry, I'm not going to bore you with long winded speeches or excuses since I know the real reason you clicked was for the writing that's to follow right? Or did you guys actually want to hear from me?**

***silence***

**Well then...I guess we shall begin then :)**

**Warning: This chapter contains blood, gore and some darker images. If you're queasy...buckets and paper bags are to your right. **

**Disclaimer: Ha, if I owned this show, it would never be aired and instead Dean Sam, and Castiel would be my personal attendants :P**

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><p>The next day passed quickly at Bella's manor for Dean. Sam had cornered him after breakfast and forced him into the small library to write out the letters that needed to be delivered to the other lords and ladies across the kingdom. He was finally able to escape from the confines of the stuffy room late in the afternoon and hurriedly retreated outside in search of the stables. It didn't take long and before he knew it he was standing in front of Impala's stall, brushing his hand gently down the mare's muscular neck.<p>

He spent a good while in there among the many horses, the distinct smell of musty hay and sweat filling his nostrils and reminding him of home. He had let himself into Impala's stall and sat down on a small pile of hay in the back against the wall and watched as she happily devoured the bucket of oats he brought in with him. His thoughts moved freely from one idea to the next, flowing too fast to properly develop one or the other. The quiet surrounding him in the dim lighting was occasionally broken by a snort or stomping of a hoof from the other occupants of the stable.

A lot had happened in the last few days, Dean hadn't had a chance to take it all in yet. At this time only five days ago he was getting ready to celebrate with the rest of the city the victory they had won over a threatening group of supernatural creatures, and now here he was. He knew that same city was in shambles, the smoke had hung in the distant sky for days after the attack and it wasn't that big of a stretch to his mind to imagine everyone as dead. The citizens, the servants, the guards, he's father. At that thought a heavy feeling settled into the pit of his stomach as realization hit him with little mercy. His father, the last adult blood related figure in his life was most likely dead.

Before Dean had a chance to let his emotions get to him though, he heard the faint sound of the far stable door opening slightly. He stilled on the pile and listened carefully as footsteps could be heard entering the large building and then the soft click from the door once again latching into place. Quietly he slipped off the hay, moved over to the stall door and peaked over the edge of the wood to catch a glimpse of the new comer.

Castiel slowly moved father into the stables, eyeing the multitude of horses with a calculating expression as if he was trying to figure out if they were all to be trusted equally. Dean watched as one of the bigger chestnuts moved forward in his stall too quickly and the Enochian jumped back slightly in surprise, eyes whipping around to send a stern glare towards the culprit. The stallion simply snorted and turned away with a flick of his tail and the Enochian continued on.

Dean looked on confused as he slowly made his way down the stable. He looked almost the exact same as this morning, messy brown hair, stoic expression, shoulders straight, and his every piercing eyes swivelling around the room with careful deliberation. Though one thing was off. Castiel had now donned a long coat that reached to his knees, tan in color and looked too big for him, the material hanging off his shoulders in such a way that it made him look even thinner. But for some reason that Dean couldn't place, it seemed to suit the Enochian.

"Does something displease you about my attire?"

Dean jumped, startled from his thoughts and found himself face to face with the stoic faced Enochian. He shook his head slightly, hand clutching the left side of his chest as his heart raced faster than Impala on a good day. "Don't do that," he gasped, eyeing Castiel and frowning at what he had said. "What are you talking about"

"My apologize, but I assumed something had displeased you as you have been blatantly staring at me for the past while." he said calming, brows drawing down a tad at the final part.

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed. "No, nothing has "displeased me" so don't get all bent out of shape. But seriously," he said, gesturing down at the newest addition to the Enochian's wardrobe. "Where did you get the coat?"

Castiel too looked down at the clothing, lifting his arms a tad to study the large sleeves. "Lady Tabolt sent new clothes to the room with instructions that I could choose the articles I wished." He shrugged slightly and his arms returned to fall stiffly at his side. "I choose."

Dean scoffed, he should have known Bella wouldn't have let that fishing comment slide easily, but it didn't seem that Castiel was to effected by the jibe so it was technically a loss on her part. "Alright, sure." he commented, throwing the situation aside. Than another thought occurred to him. "So, why are you here in the first place? I mean, this doesn't seem like the kinda place you would want to spend your time in," he elaborated at the slight tilt of the Enochian's head.

Castiel nodded slightly, understanding lighting his features. "I was sent by Samuel to inform you of a plan we have devised on how to get us safely across the border and into the neighboring country."

"Whoa whoa whoa, hold on a second." Dean held up his hands, cutting the man off. "First of all, Samuel? Seriously, I've never heard him called that in a long time! It's just Sam." He shook his head in slight amusement, and then his brows drew together. "And secondly, out of the country? What the hell for? Those Demons aren't there, they're here! I don't remember this plan at all."

"That is because Samue...Sam, and I just discussed it mere moments ago," he explained, stumbling a bit over the unfamiliar name.

"Oh hell no!" Dean exclaimed, anger igniting his face. "I am not running with my tail between my legs over some damn Demons! And I'm definitely not leaving my people here to be butchered by those freaks!" He took a step towards the Enochian. "You were there Castiel! You saw how they slaughtered the people at the castle! Men, women, hell even children were torn apart!" His fists clenched in barley controlled rage as memories of that terrible night flew through his mind. "It was worse than any other attack I've ever witnessed, and I'll be damned if a run away and leave the rest of my people to suffer like that! And if you disagree, then you're nothing but a coward!"

Castiel stood silently through the whole thing, features an unreadable mask as Dean vented his frustration at his face. When Dean paused for a breath though, he spoke. "You are not thinking rationally Dean. Staying behind is not what is best for your people right now."

"Oh, and running away is?" He shouted back.

"Yes."

Dean shook his head. "Wow, that's low. You're actually planning on leaving innocent people behind because you're too scared to stay and fight these sons of bi-"

"And what is your plan then?" Castiel's deep voice rose in volume. "For only three of us to charge your castle without supplies or knowledge of our enemy's numbers, much less strength? To fall in the first minute of your suicide attack by the hands of the same creatures who murdered your people, that's what you want?" He stepped forwards until he was right in Dean's personal space, looming despite his short size. His tone lowered. "Do you wish for those vile things to slowly rip you apart? And when you finally die from the pain, to parade you around on a pike throughout the many towns, you're dead body a sign to all those you wished to protect, that they're last hope for their kingdom died with their king?"

Silence hung in the air as moments ticked by slowly. Dean screwed his eyes shut and resisted the urge to punch the man square in the face. He was right, that was common knowledge, but did he have to be so cryptic about it? "No." He finally gritted out through clenched teeth.

Castiel stepped back, satisfied. "Then we leave for the boarder as quickly as possible. From there we will make our way to the ruler of your neighboring kingdom and spread the news. They will unite with us and once our numbers are stronger we can lead an attack on the Demons. You're people will be protected by the other rulers who will be left here. You did send out the letters today correct?"

"Yeah"

"Good." Castiel paused and a look of almost sympathy passed over his face. "Sam is making plans to leave within the hour." With that the Enochian turned and strode out of the stables.

As soon as the large door closed Dean deflated. Sinking to the ground on the pile of straw he dropped his head into his hands and breathed deeply. He knew his brother and Castiel were making a wise choice, but that didn't make it easier for him. He had already witnessed the slaughter of the people closest to him, and now had to decide to leave the rest of his kingdom alone with those monsters while he crossed into a safer land. It just wasn't fair.

"Damnit!"

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><p>Azazel sauntered slowly down the large palace halls, vacant of any living form. He smiled to himself as he walked, eyes wandering up and down the floor ahead of him, gleefully taking in the blood stained carpets and splattered walls. Bodies littered the floor, all various genders and ages, but all very much human. Or they were human, before the demons had descended upon them and tore them apart, spilling their delicious life liquid all over the place.<p>

He stopped beside the stone wall, reaching out a hand and resting it against the cold stone, dried blood grating against his skin as he carefully traced the lovely pattern with his fingertips. The human whom the blood belonged to used to be a guard, his once gleaming armour proving useless against the their might and powers, and his body now lay slumped against the wall, innards fanned across the floor and eyes frozen in pain and horror. Azazel thought that expression looked quite lovely on that face, and with a small chuckle he moved to the large doors at the end of hall.

With a wave of his hand the broken, heavy doors swung open revealing the large throne room that lay beyond. Azazel steeped in and took a look around, the floor squelching under his boots. The room was merely a broken shell of what it had once been, debris and bodies scattered all across the area. The sturdy windows were broken, jagged glass edges casting frightening shadows across the floor and the tall stone columns chipped, large spider cracks running across the surface. All the high backed chairs that had lined each side of the room were destroyed, ripped apart and disposed wherever they happened to have landed during the fight. The once green carpet, now stained crimson, that lead to the dais was torn and frayed, useless now really. The dais, Azazel smile returned as he strode purposefully to the raised platform.

This was the only place in the entire palace that seemed to be untouched by the destruction around it. The carpet had kept its lush green color, the golden trim shinning faintly in the light as if trying to emanate hope from the small threads. Azazel sneered at the notion; he would have to fix that. His attention was turned to the large throne standing before him, the great throne of the kings of Siohan. Made of solid dark wood the back stood almost 7 feet tall, the seat cushion boasting the same lush green color and the rearing horse of Siohan rising off the top, sparkling emeralds for eyes. He placed a hand to his chin and studied the throne up and down carefully, eyes narrowed in concentration. It was impressive, but not nearly good enough if it was to hold his father when he arrived.

"First off, we need to get rid of this," he grunted, sword ripping out of its sheath and severing the horse from the back, the piece tumbling off and bouncing down the steps to land with a loud thud on the stone floor below. "There, much better," he mused, surveying his handiwork. The head ornament that would take the now empty spot would be much larger and definitely more fitting for the one meant for that seat.

Azazel was starting to feel a little giddy thinking of the many ideas he had for improving not only the throne, but the whole room. The minor details that had been sorted out during the battle were improvements of their own, but many other things still needed to be changed here or there, and in his mind everything was going to be perfect for when that fate full day came. He had a some work ahead of him, but he didn't mind, it would be worth it when they're ultimate goal was reached.

"Yes Father," he sighed into the empty air. "Everything will be ready for your arrival, and after you descend I will sit at you right hand and carry out your destruction with great gladness." He gently stroked his sword, imagining it covered with the blood of his tasks.

Just then he was disrupted by the sound of the large doors creaking open again, hesitant footsteps echoing around the quiet chamber as their owner hesitantly made their way in. Azazel turned and watched as a young demon stopped in his tracks in the middle of the room, nervousness written all over his face.

"What are you here for," Azazel snapped, his earlier mood replaced with cold anger, an anger he directed into a gaze aimed right at the demons head.

The demon shifted uncomfortably under the icy gaze and cleared his throat, trying to build up the courage to talk. "I...I have brought an update about...the...the Winchesters sir," he stuttered, fear clogging his throat and causing his body to twitch uncontrollably.

Azazel's anger quickly turned to barley controlled rage at the mention of the two brat princes. He had already received numerous, unhelpful updates about those trouble makers, and after each one he was so overcome by the futility of the action that he killed the messenger on the spot for spewing the same thing as the last. No wonder this demon was as terrified as he was.

"Is this another report about your lack of competence?" His voice was dangerously low as he stared down the squirming creature in front of him. "Because I am tired of hearing the same excuses. If you came here to tell me that you have seen neither hide nor hair of those pesky invalids, then you better pull out your sword and end your miserable life and save me the trouble," he sneered, fists clenching as his voice rose in intensity. "You weak, pathetic excuses for soldiers let two sniveling human messes slip past you that night, escape your detection and now you keep wishing to crawl back on your bellies to repeat to me your many failures?! I should butcher the lot of you! Decorate the halls with your blood and let the hounds feast on your entrails while I sit by and laugh knowing that I've lost nothing by giving up you spineless, incompetent little-"

"The scouts found something!" The demon burst out shakily, daring to interrupt the frightful rant to get it out and hopefully save his neck.

Azazel paused and stared down at the demon, the words processing in his mind and cooling his anger slightly. "What exactly did they find?"

The demon swallowed hard and continued carefully. "They spotted the princes leaving the walled manor of Lady Talbot, the high seat in this kingdom. They were headed north towards the boarder at a rapid pace sir."

"Is that all?"

"No sir," the demon almost shouted a little eager to get out the information. "The scouts said someone else was with them. A man with dark hair and wearing a tan coat. He had a powerful aura about him. "

Silence followed the demons report as Azazel simply stood still, his thoughts masked behind an expressionless face. The minutes dragged on and the demon pulled at his shirt collar, his nervousness starting to return. Then Azazel's lips quirked up slightly in an amused smirk, and finally a tiny chuckled escaped and bounced around the room.

"Very good," he said turning away, a smile evident in his voice. "Yes, very good indeed."

Accepting the praise as a good sign, the demon raised his head hopefully. "Would you like to issue a raid on the manor sir?"

The yellow eyed demon waved his hand dismissively. "No no, there will be plenty of time for that. The princes are top priority at this point; we can take care of other pests later." He turned back to face the demon. "Now go and inform the rest of the ants of this news, and I do believe our special ingredient is needed for this attack." Azazel grinned down evilly. "You know of whom I speak yes?"

The demon's eyes widened with barely contained horror, but he nodded and quickly scurried out of the room. Azazel heaved a large sigh, the relief washing over him. Those annoying brats would be taken care of soon enough, and then the plan could proceed as originally predicted. With that thought he once again turned his attention to the making of the throne, humming a dark tune under his breath and dreaming of destruction.

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><p>The room was dark and stank of blood and rotting flesh. The pressing silence held the memory of delicious screams and cries of agony, despair and horror. A memory shared by the only occupant of the room, sitting in the corner smiling at nothing. The knife clutched in his hands was twirled in small circles, replicating the cuts made not long ago, pupils dilated in ecstasy and thin frame shaking with extreme joy.<p>

The quite was broken when a door at the far end opened slowly, light streaming into the room from the candles beyond and illuminating the bloody mess strewn around the floor. The metal table in the middle still held the chained corpse of the last victim, yellowish glow penetrating the darkened holes and glittering crimson rivers that still flowed down the cooling flesh. The intruder carefully stepped into the doorway, hand coming up to cover their nose in disgust.

"Alistair. Azazel has ordered your participation in the capture of the renegade princes." The demon's voice was strong but shaky as he spoke towards the dark corner. "He also says that if you are successful in retrieving them, they are yours to do with as you please."

The figure looked up at that, eyes flashing menacingly in the dim light. He smiled, thin and evil and his dark laughter filled the space of the room, sending chills down the demon's spine.

"Very well then," Alistair's wheezy high pitched voice started with delight. "Lets go find some lost sheep."

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><p><strong>And there you have it! Again, sorry for the random updates but I guess life is life right. <strong>

**So how are you guys liking this story so far? Interested, bored, want to throw me to a pack of hungry werewolves and watch as they tear it to shreds and consume my soul? Well tough beans cause I have no soul (JK). But seriously, reviews are a wonderful help to me and I would love if you could take the time to drop me one and let me know how I'm doing :)**

**Well now that I'm done whoring myself out, have a great week everyone! **

**Until next time *salutes***

**SPNAngelGirl**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello Everyone!**

**Wowie! 10 chapters! I feel excited about that and in celebration I've prepared a nice long chapter for you guys so I hope you like it :D Well I suppose we should get on with it then. **

**Disclaimer: Blah blah blah, I don't own, blah blah blah, you guys have figured it out by now**

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><p>Twilight was tinting the vast sky dark hues of purples and blues by the time Sam had convinced Castiel it was time to stop for the night. The trio had been traveling all day, backs aching from the saddles and skin covered in a thin film of dried sweat and road dust. The relentless sun that hung over head had scorched them with its piercing heat, the open plains providing little to no shelter for the travelers to escape it. So they pressed on and Sam could feel the pinch of burnt skin across his face for his troubles. Thankfully though the flaming assailant had long since sunk to its slumber below the western horizon and a northern wind had blown in, pushing through the sticky warm air, cooling it slightly and offering small relief with the rustle of a shirt or the stirring of hair. Silence hung in the air, occasionally broken by the sound of night animals awakening to familiar darkness.<p>

Sam turned his head to the right and took in his two companions, the reasons for the unsettling silence. Dean sat slouched in his saddle, hands gripping the reins in strained fists, face scowling and lips pursed in obvious annoyance as he refused to look at the Enochian beside him. Castiel was as straight as ever, posture alert but not tense and his face stony blank as usual. His unnaturally blue eyes seemed to be illuminated in the failing light, swiveling around slowly as he loyally scanned the terrain for any signs of danger. His detailed study of the plain would occasionally cause him to turn ever so slightly in Sam's direction, but always his eyes avoided contact with the sulking crowned prince beside him, glancing over his form with great deliberation. It was an hour or two back that the predicament had occurred.

They had been riding along in comfortable silence, the grassy hills rising around them as they dipped down another in their seemingly never ending ride. Sam was feeling excitement at the prospect of crossing into Teliandor, but he could tell that his brother was growing more and more agitated as the distance they traveled increased. Finally, as they topped another hill, Dean reined in Impala so suddenly that Sam and Castiel had traveled another couple paces before they managed to stop themselves. At Sam's inquiry to the problem, Dean had motioned back the way they had come, a mixture of anger and defiance setting in his face as he once again declared his unhappiness at this plan. Sam had tried to reason with him, using the gentle persuasion tactic but every time he tried to speak his words were trampled under his brother's angry shouts.

That's when Castiel had stepped in. The Enochian had been watching the exchange in calculating silence, eyes and ears soaking in everything before nudging his horse forward, commanding attention and cutting Dean off mid rant. Coolly he informed Dean of the reasoning behind their actions and the fact that their absence would help the citizens more than their current presence was, his tone of voice leaving no room for argument. The stubborn nature in Dean though would not be calmed and he simply ignored the words that were just spoken, turning Impala around and proclaiming his intent of returning to the Capital to, as he called it, gank some ass hats. He hadn't even had a chance to press boot to flank when suddenly Castiel was in front of him, the large bay blocking the way. His always stony face was pinched subtly with anger and his eyes held an underlining power that assured his ability to back up any threats he may make. Sam could feel the air shift slightly around them, centered on the Enochian and he knew that his powers were being held at the ready. They were two immovable forces locked together, different sides clashing in a single gaze that could heat a hundred kitchen pots and freeze just as many lakes. Just when Sam was afraid it would come to blows he heard Dean mutter a curse and then he was turning the black mare around, face a dark thundercloud as he passed by. Castiel meet his eyes briefly, face returned to its regular mask before spurring his own steed forward after the angered prince.

Since then the air had been heavy with tension, thick and clogging like an early morning spring fog rolling over the hills. Neither had spoken another word and Sam had been forced to ride the hours away in only the company of his own mind and he wasn't sure just how much more of this he could take.

That's when, at long last, the Wood of Whispers had come into view. The shadows lingering between the first few trunks stretched out in the setting sun like fingers, reaching for the approaching warriors and Sam couldn't help the small shiver that ran down his spine. The forest had been named after the myth that the trees held the spirits of the dead, those that weren't able to move on into a peaceful rest. It was a man's worst dream realized, to know that a person they loved was not able to continue into sanctuary, was chained to the earth they no longer belonged to but could not leave. It was all trickery though. The woods were actually home to powerful sprites that had been banished into the boundaries of trunks and leaves, unable to venture past into the land beyond. Because of this they had become vengeful creatures who hated mankind, and so had devised this trap for any man foolish enough to venture into the wrong areas. The image of a dead loved one was a powerful thing, and the sprites used it to their advantage, playing on the anguish that would be felt to strip them of their defenses. Once their victims were weak, they wove a spell that caused the men to kill themselves, and then the sprites consumed their tortured souls. It was a risky move taking this path in order to reach Teliandor, but Sam had studied hard the stories and believed to have found a safe route through the trees.

Now they were just past the first few rows of trees, having found a small clearing to set up camp for the night. The horses had all been tethered at the edge near the taller grass, the saddle bags removed and equipment unpacked. Dean was kneeling in the centre in front of a small stack of sticks and dried bark, striking the two fire stones together and creating sparks over the kindling. Castiel had taken up position by the supply pile, pointedly staying as far from the prince as was physically possible and trying to look busy, though he was failing miserably.

The threat of an unavoidable confrontation loomed over their heads and Sam was sure he didn't want to be here when it finally happened. So with a quick mutter that he was heading out to collect firewood, he slipped into the shadows and out into the trees.

Sam's large strides and hurried pace carried him away from the clearing quickly, and after a few minutes passed, he slowed to a comfortable walk. The air was clear and refreshing, the night having cooled it to an acceptable temperature. He could hear a few creatures scurrying about in the trees and the tall grass around his feet but he paid them no mind, accepting their presence gladly as a distraction from his previous thoughts. He knew it wasn't safe to be out here alone now that darkness had fallen onto the land, but he was also sure that it was just as dangerous back at the camp. Besides, he needed a break.

As he continued to walk, Sam tipped his head back to look up into the dark. The trees were dense, even this short distance in, but here and there he could see patches in the canopy of leaves that allowed him a glimpse at the night sky beyond. The stars were like the shards of a broken crystal vase, the pieces haphazardly scattered across a slate black table and illuminated by the faint glow of a nearby candle. It was calming to be able to see something so familiar to him, and Sam actually started to relax as he gazed up into the night, eyes searching out memorized patterns and constellations hidden in the tiny pin pricks of light.

The tension had begun to leave his body, a smile pulling at his lips and Sam took a deep breath in...and stopped in his tracks, nose scrunching up in disgust. There was a new, very acidic smell in the air, wafting up from a place that he couldn't pinpoint and overtaking his senses. The next breath hurt, the smell seeming to burn his nose and sting his eyes from the intensity it held. A deep feeling of dread pooled into Sam's stomach and he quickly turned around, intent on heading back the way he had come.

Before he could make it two steps though he was suddenly grabbed from behind, thin arms reaching up around his chest and jerking him back hard. Sam went to cry out but felt the cold, unmistakable sensation of a blade being pressed to his throat. He froze, eyes darting frantically through the dark and then there was breath on his hair and a voice hissing in his ear.

"Lambs shouldn't wander to far from the herd."

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><p>Dean sat back on his heels, the fire stones dropping to the ground at his feet as the fire sprung to life in the small pit. The flames illuminated the surrounding area, casting light that swayed as if dancing across the trees in the quickly gathering darkness. He cast a glance over to the supply pile where Castiel had taken up his post. He was bent over the small horse packs, poking and prodding at random items in an attempt to appear preoccupied, attention pointedly focused everywhere but at the fire. Dean wanted to laugh it was so obvious, the Enochian was terrible at being subtle.<p>

The fact of the matter was, they both knew that a confrontation was unavoidable. Hell even Sam had left the camp so as to not be around when the hammer fell and the two of them faced off. Dean turned away back to the fire, hands reaching down to dig his fingers into the loose dirt at his feet. Even though he knew it was bound to happen, he didn't want to be the first to initiate it. He was right about his decision, as heir his people needed to come first and just because Castiel was too stubborn to realize it did not make it the right choice.

"You were wrong." Castiel's voice shattered the quite air as well as Dean's thoughts. He turned to look back at the Enochian, eyebrows raised and disbelief written across his face.

"Excuse me?"

Castiel had turned fully to face Dean, the firelight casting shadows across the hard angles of his face. "You were mistaken in your decision. You allowed yourself to become led astray by your feelings and therefore-"

"My feelings?" Dean interjected, rushing to his feet.

"Yes."

Dean scoffed. "Those 'feelings' were actually something called loyalty! But like I'd expect you to know anything about that you emotionless bastard," he spit out, anger bubbling from his very core.

Castiel's brows drew in, indignation etching into his usually stoic features as he opened his mouth to retaliate, but Dean cut him off. "So yes, I did allow my allegiance to my people influence my plan to go and gut the fuckers who mercilessly butchered them because as their prince it's my duty to do it!" Dean paused, face growing dark. "And it's even more stronger now that I'm their King, because if those demons could slaughter hundreds of innocent people without a second thought, there's no way they would have let the King live." Dean watched as the Enochian's face softened and he took a step forward.

"Dean, I-"

"Save it," he said, raising his hand. "I don't need any of your half assed sympathy."

Castiel drew back, expression clearing once again. "Very well," he said quietly. "But be that as it may, these actions would have only led to disaster. You speak of how important it is to your people to be avenged. How much more important is it to those who have survived to have a ruler, someone who, when the time is right, will lead them to freedom and victory? They cannot accomplish that if you are killed."

"They cannot accomplish that if you are killed," Dean mocked, drawing himself up and lowering his voice in order to mimic the Enochian. His lips then curled into a snarl and his eyes flashed with anger. "They also can't do anything if I'm not even here because I fled the damn kingdom! Oh yeah I'm sure their spirits will just be so high now that I've turned tail and raced as fast as possible away from danger! What kind of a King just leaves his people to be destroyed!" Dean's voice split the night air causing a flock of birds to hastily take flight as his last words bounced between the trees. Silence followed on its heels, sinking its claws deep into the moment as the two stood staring intently at each other.

After what felt like hours all the fight seemed to leave Dean and he deflated, slumping onto a nearby stump and gazing into the fire. "I'm a damn coward," he whispered into the air, watching the flames dance in its earthen hearth. "I can't leave them to be slaughtered, but I can't go back either. I know I must deliver justice for the slain, and yet I doubt if I will be able to properly avenge them and give them peace." He hung his head in defeat, squeezing his eyes shut against the onslaught of guilt and sadness. "I don't deserve to be their King."

For a while the only sound that could be heard through the clearing was the crackling and popping of the fire as it ate away at the sticks. Then came the sound of boots treading the soft ground as Castiel drew near and stopped right beside Dean, who stayed perfectly still.

"For surely a King is a man first, and so he too must face what all men do." Dean's head rose slowly, eyes finding the Enochian's steady gaze, the words catching him by surprise. "Doubts, fears, tragedy. It is this that molds the man into a King, and also this that keeps him humble in his reign." Rich sapphire blue locked with clouded green. "Your people will not resent the man who admits his weaknesses, but will instead support him as he wages war for their lives. They will not allow their King to fall.

Dean sat starring up at Castiel, drinking in every last word and trying to process it all. His thoughts tumbled around inside his head, never staying long enough for him to fully develop it before it was pushed aside by another and the cycle repeated. He didn't know why he was opening up, allowing himself to become this vulnerable with Castiel, but he just couldn't seem to force himself to shut the gates again. So instead he voiced a question that he had been dreading the answer too. "How will they know that I'm not dead? For all we know the Demons could be spreading lies about everyone in the family being wiped out."

Castiel nodded as if he had been expecting that question and didn't hesitate before answering. "Because they will have faith in you." His gaze seemed to intensify until it was if he was staring directly into Dean's very soul. "In turn, you too must have faith in them."

"Well isn't this touching?"

Dean leapt to his feet and whirled around, arms instinctively raising into a defensive position, but what he saw caused his breath to catch in his throat.

Emerging into the clearing was a group of men all dressed in black, faces grim and eyes blacker then the shadows they were hiding in. One seemed to be leading the way. He was quite skinny, limbs like twigs and his skin was a sickly pale color. His eyes betrayed an inner madness and Dean could make out what looked to be blood splatter across his clothes. But what had caused his blood to run cold through his veins was the sight of this man, pressing a blade to Sam's throat and grinning wildly.

"SAM!" Dean started forward but quickly stopped in his tracks when the man tightened his grip on the taller man's arm and pressed the blade further, breaking the skin and allowing a drop of blood to trickle down his neck.

"Not so fast my Liege," he mocked, voice high and strained. "Take one more step and I'll release your precious brother's sweet blood all over the place." The demons behind him cackled, shuffling around in anticipation.

Dean's jaw clenched tightly, boots grinding into the dirt at his feet as he glared daggers at the man. "You bastard."

"Alistar actually," the demon sneered, lips curling into a crazed smile.

"What do you want abomination?" Castiel's gravelly voice sounded as he stepped forward to stand beside Dean. Alistar's gaze shifted over to the Enochian, confused eyes taking in the other's hard features until something clicked and a pleased smile crept onto his face.

"Ah, so you're the one they've been looking for. Lord Azazel will be beside himself once we bring you back with these two brats," he exclaimed, squeezing Sam again and watching the wince that crossed his face.

Castiel's brows furrowed, blue eyes narrowing as he stared at the demon in front of them. "I know not of what you are referring too, but I do know that you will not be taking us anywhere." He said the last part with hardened conviction, shifting slightly into a solid stance.

Dean heard Alistar scoff in amusement, but he was too distracted to glance over and catch the accompanying eye roll. His eyes were on Castiel. The Enochian's right hand was purposely closed, not in a fist but like he was holding something back behind his fingers. He looked up and caught those blue eyes glancing at him and suddenly Dean knew what was going to happen. He shifted ever so slightly, allowing himself easy access to his boots and caught Sam's gaze, allowing the edge of his lips to twitch into a small smile. Then, out of the corner of his eye he saw Castiel's hand fly up and just as the shaft of light exploded from his palm Dean crouched to the ground, making sure to keep his eyes low as he grasped at the knives in his boots. He could hear the surprised and anguished cries of the demons as he rose again, soles scraping against the dirt and propelling him forward, well aimed knives streaking through the air towards the stunned creatures.

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><p>Castiel sprang into action, allowing the trance to envelope him and transform him into the warrior he had trained ruthlessly to become. He sped towards the cluster of slacked faced demons, his sword like a thin shaft of lightening as he quickly dispatched two before the rest could collect their wits. He spun in a tight circle, the tan coat still resting on his shoulders flaring out around him like an imitation of his wings.<p>

The two knifes Dean had thrown during the confusion caused by his light blast had forced Alistar to throw himself to the side in order to avoid getting stabbed, losing his grip on Sam who had dropped into a roll that brought him up beside his brother. Dean had handed off a few more daggers, unsheathed his own sword and the two brothers had leapt into the fray.

Castiel clashed with a demon who had managed to recover enough to pull out his sword, though his legs still wobbled unsteadily beneath him and it wasn't long until the Enochian's blade was rammed through his chest, the sickly light erupting from his eyes and mouth. And more continued to come. He whipped his sword around in time to block an attack from his right, bring his leg up and sweeping his assailants legs out from underneath him, another demon catching his fist square in the face. He had just begun to face off with a third when suddenly a feeling of dread and urgency washed over him.

A glance to his right revealed the sight of Dean, pinned to a tree by a particularly strong demon, struggling against the blade pointed at his chest. Without a second thought he turned away from his own opponent and launched himself towards the pair. A quick slash knocked the blade from its deadly trajectory, and a well-aimed kick had the stunned demon wheeling backwards into his companions.

Dean glanced over to him, the two acknowledging each other with a nod before heading back into the action, each instantly engaging a target.

Time seemed to slow as the trio faced off against the demons and soon a fair amount of bodies littered the trampled and bloody grass, and still there were more. Castiel wrenched his sword from the chest of yet another one and quickly scanned the area trying to locate Dean and Sam. The brothers were positioned off to the side, backs against each other so as to protect against the onslaught. At first glance they seemed to be doing very well, but Castiel could see the perspiration gathered on their faces and trickling down their necks, the small nicks and cuts telling of slip ups in form that allowed a blade through their defences and the way their chests heaved as they laboured for breath. The combination of the day long rides and lack of sleep had begun to take their toll and he was sure they wouldn't last much longer. He had to do something.

Castiel backed up a ways from the fight, allowing himself space and time to prepare. He reached deep inside himself, felt his power humming below his skin and dipped into it, pulling out as much as he could get. He channeled it down to his hands, brow wrinkled with concentration and fingers clenched around the ball of power that was forming there. Finally he had all he could hold and his eyes once again sought out the princes, lips forming the warning.

"COVER YOUR EYES!"

Without waiting to see if it was heard, Castiel unleashed the blast of blinding white light into the clearing.

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><p><strong>And there you have it my lovely followers! I know I know it's a cliff hanger, but I just couldn't help it :P But anywho thanks to all who have followed, favorited and reviewed this story, love ya all! Leave me a review if you can :)<strong>

**Until next time *salutes***

**SPNAngelGirl**


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